Columbia  5Bnit)er^ftj) 

mtI}f(£itpofl!fttig0rk 

THE  LIBRARIES 


THE   LIFE   OF 

JOHN    WESLEY 


•y'^y^ 


JOHN   WESLEY. 

From  the  painting  by  Roniney  in  the  possession  of  Walter  R.  Cassels,  Esq.,  Lon- 
don, England,  through  whose  courtesy  it  is  here  reproduced. 


THE    LIFE    OF 


JOHN    WESLEY 


BY 


C.   T.   WINCHESTER 

PROFESSOR  OF  ENGLISH   LITERATURE  IN 
WESLEYAN   UNIVERSITY 


WITH  PORTRAITS 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

LONDON:   MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Ltd, 
1906 

All  rights  reserved 


93f-if 


Copyright,  1906, 
By  the  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 

Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published  February,  1906. 


NorinoolJ  Wctii 

J.  S.  Gushing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 

Norwood,  Mass..  U.S.A. 


Co 
MY   WIFE 


384739 


PREFACE 

A  WORD  of  justification  is  due  from  any  one  who 
presumes  to  add  another  to  the  already  numerous 
Lives  of  John  Wesley. 

The  early  biographers  —  except  Southey  —  and 
most  of  the  later  ones  have  written  as  Methodists 
for  Methodists.  With  that  great  religious  move- 
ment of  which  Wesley  was  the  leader,  I  have  the 
most  hearty  sympathy;  but  I  have  endeavored  to 
consider  his  work  without  narrowing  denominational 
bias,  and  have  emphasized  certain  important  phases 
of  his  character  that  have  often  received  compara- 
tively little  attention.  Wesley  was,  indeed,  pri- 
marily the  religious  reformer;  but  he  is  surely  to 
be  remembered  not  merely  as  the  Methodist,  but 
as  the  man,  —  a  marked  and  striking  personality, 
energetic,  scholarly,  alive  to  all  moral,  social,  and 
political  questions,  and  for  some  thirty  years  prob- 
ably exerting  a  greater  influence  than  any  other 
man  in  England.  I  have  ventured  to  hope  that 
the  story  of  such  a  life,  told  in  moderate  compass, 
may  still  be  of  interest  to  the  general  reader  as 
well  as  to  the  student  of  religious  history. 

I  am,  of  course,  indebted  to  the  older  Lives  of 
Wesley  by  Clarke,  Watson,  Moore,  and  Southey, 
and  to  the  later  ones  by  Stevens,  Lelievre,  Overton, 
and  Telford ;  while  the  laborious  and  monumental 


Vlll 


PREFACE 


work  by  Tyerman  is  a  vast  storehouse  of  facts  to 
which  all  subsequent  biographers  must  resort.  Yet, 
after  all,  his  own  Journal  and  Letters  will  always 
remain  the  best,  almost  the  only  needful,  authority 
for  the  life  of  Wesley;  it  is  upon  them  that  this 
book  is  chiefly  based. 

Two  papers  upon  Wesley,  by  the  present  writer, 
appeared  in  the  Century  Magazi7te  for  July  and 
August,  1903;  by  the  kind  permission  of  the  Cen- 
tury Company,  a  few  paragraphs  from  these  papers 
are  inserted,  without  essential  change,  in  the  fol- 
lowing pages. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER   I 
Parentage  and  Youth 

PAGE 

Epworth I 

The  Wesley  ancestry 2 

Samuel  Wesley    ..........  3 

Susanna  Wesley  ...         ,....,.  7 

Her  system  of  family  discipline    .......  9 

Burning  of  the  rectory 12 

The  "  Epworth  noises "         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         -13 

John  Wesley  at  the  Charterhouse 15 


CHAPTER   H 

Oxford  and  Georgia 

Wesley  entered  at  Christ's  Church 18 

Increasing  religious  seriousness    .......  20 

Fellow  of  Lincoln  ;  studies  and  companions  .         .         .         .21 

Development  of  his  religious  ideals ;  acquaintance  with  Law        .  24 

Curate  in  the  parish  of  Wroote 25 

Returns  to  Lincoln       .........  27 

The  Oxford  "  Methodists  " 29 

Wesley's  acquaintance  with  Betty  Kirkham 34 

And  with  Mrs.  Pendarves 35 

Declines  his  father's  request  that  he  accept  the  Epworth  living     .  38 

Accepts  Oglethorpe's  invitation  to  go  to  Georgia           ...  40 

Meets  the  Moravians  on  the  voyage  thither 43 

Comparative  failure  in  Georgia 45 

Reasons  for  it 47 

Miss  Sophia  Hopkey    .........  49 

Returns  to  London       .........  50 

ix 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  III 

The  Year  of  Transition,  1738-1739 

Discouragement  on  his  return  from  Georgia 
Meeting  with  Peter  Bohler  ..... 
The  experience  of  the  24th  of  May 
Subsequent  vacillation  of  feeling 
Visit  to  Marienborn  and  Herrnhut 
Work  and  experience  during  the  winter,  1 738-1 739 
Formation  of  the  Fetter  Lane  Society  . 
Whitefield  returns  from  Georgia  .... 
His  outdoor  preaching  on  Kingswood  Common    . 
Invites  Wesley  to  his  aid      ..... 
Wesley  preaches  in  the  open  air  for  the  first  time 


51 

54 
57 

59 
61 

64 

65 
66 
68 
69 
70 


CHAPTER   IV 

The  Early  Work,  i  739-1 742 

English  morals  in  1740 

Social  conditions 

The  lower  classes  in  city  and  country 

The  rising  middle  class 

General  indifference  to  religion     . 

Wesley's  work  in  Bristol  and  vicinity,  1739 

Wesley  and  Whitefield  in  London 

Physical  effects  attending  Wesley's  preaching 

Beginnings  of  organization    . 

Separation  of  the  Methodists  from  the  Moravians 

The  Foundery  Society  .... 

The  Class  Meeting 

Need  of  teachers  and  preachers    . 
Cennick  and  Maxfield,  the  first  lay  preachers 
Controversy  between  Wesley  and  Whitefield 
Resultins:  schism  in  Methodist  societies 


71 

73 
74 

n 

79 

82 

84 

87 
90 

91 
94 
97 
99 

lOI 

103 

107 


CHAPTER   V 

The  Extension  of  the  Work,  i  742-1 760 
Wesley  visits  the  north         ...... 


Preaches  in  Newcastle  and  vicinity 


109 
no 


CONTENTS 


XI 


Visit  to  Epworth  .... 

Death  of  his  mother     .... 
"—His  journeyings  over  England  and  Wales 

■-  His  daily  habits 

^  Nature  of  his  preaching 

The  first  "  Conference  "... 

The  lay  preachers         .... 
—Wesley's  encounters  with  mobs    . 

The  Staffordshire  riots 
-Causes  of  this  popular  opposition 
;  Opposition  from  the  Church 

Pamphlets  by  Gibson,  Bishop  of  London 
\  And  by  Lavington,  Bishop  of  Exeter   . 

And  by  Warburton,  Bishop  of  Gloucester 

Wesley's  "  Earnest  Appeal  to  Men  of  Reason  and  Religion 

Examination  of  the  charges  against  the  Methodists 


PAGE 

113 
116 
118 

120 

122 

124 

128 
130 
136 
141 

146 

148 
152 

154 

156 
158 


CHAPTER  VI 
Wesley's  Private  Life 


Had  no  home 

Unfortunate  marriages  of  his  sisters 

Had  few  intimate  friends  :  Perronet,  Grimshaw 

John  Fletcher       ...... 

Not  indifferent  to  the  charm  of  society 
-The  Grace  Murray  episode  . 
-Marriage  with  Mrs.  Vazeille 

Unhappy  domestic  life 

Increasing  labors  and  burdens 

First  serious  illness 

Recovers  and  resumes  his  work 

His  economies  and  charities 


162 
163 
163 

166 
169 

174 
177 
180 
182 
1 84 
187 
189 


CHAPTER  VII 

The  Years  of  Success 

After  1760  opposition  mostly  ceases 
Fanaticism  and  dissension  among  Methodists 
_The  doctrine  of  "  sanctification  "  .         .         . 

George  Bell  and  Thomas  Maxfield 


190 
191 
192 
193 


xii  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  Calvinistic  controversy 196 

Whitefield  and  the  Countess  of  Huntingdon         .        .        .         '197 

Toplady  and  Rowland  Hill 199 

The  "minutes"  of  the  Conference  of  1770 204 

Lady  Huntingdon's  protest 206 

Fletcher  publishes  his  "Checks  to  Antinomianism"     .        .         .  208 

Results  of  the  controversy 209 

Wesley's  remarkable  liberality  and  tolerance         .         .         .         .210 

Sane  and  practical  type  of  religion  in  his  societies         .         .         .212 
Effect  upon  public  morals  ;  smuggling,  bribery     ....     214 

His  attitude  toward  amusements,  recreations,  accomplishments     .     215 
Encourages  popular  education ;  Sunday  Schools  .         .         .         .217 

And  popular  literature  ........     218 

Interest  in  music  .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .219 

His  interest  in  politics 221 

The  Wilkes  agitation 223 

Wesley's  pamphlets,  "  Free  Thoughts  on  Public  Aflfairs  "      .         .  225 

And  "Thoughts  on  Liberty  "        .......  226 

His  early  opinions  on  American  affairs  .....  228 

Changed  before  he  published  his  "  Calm  Address  to  our  American 

Colonies "..........  230 

And  his  "  Calm  Address  to  the  Inhabitants  of  England"      .         .  233 

Explanation  of  his  inconsistency  ......  234 

Plans  to  perpetuate  the  Wesleyan  organization  in  England ;  the 

"  Deed  of  Declaration  " 236 

And  in  America  ..........  237 

Francis  Asbury »         .  238 

American  Methodism  at  the  close  of  the  Revolution     ,         .         .  241 
Wesley  "  sets  apart "  Thomas  Coke  as  superintendent  of  the  work 

in  America    ..........  243 

Criticism  of  this  action 245 

inevitable  tendency  of  Methodists  to  separate  from  the  Church    .  248 

Always  deplored  and  resisted  by  Wesley 250 

CHAPTER   VIII 

The  Closing  Years 

Respect  and  love  for  Wesley        .         .        .        .        .         .         .252 

His  last  visit  to  Ireland 253 


CONTENTS 


xiu 


PAGB 

His  genial  temper ;  love  for  books,  music,  natural  scenery    .         .  254 

Feels  keenly  the  loss  of  friends ;  Perronet,  Fletcher     .         .         .  256 

Death  of  his  brother  Charles 257 

Gradual  decline  of  his  health 259 

Last  circuit  of  England  and  Wales 260 

Final  illness 262 

Death  and  burial 264 


CHAPTER   IX 

The  Man 


Wesley  a  gentleman 

His  courage,  courtesy,  self-possession  , 

Lack  of  humor 

A  scholar  in  tastes  and  habits  ;  his  reading  . 

His  own  writings  ;  the  Journal 

As  a  thinker  the  child  of  his  age 

Respect  for  reasoning  ..... 

Charge  of  credulity       ..... 

Vein  of  sentiment  characteristic  of  his  century 

His  mastery  over  men 

Unselfish  benevolence,  sane  and  practical     . 

Above  all  things  a  man  of  religion 

His  place  in  history 


267 
269 
270 

273 
275 
276 
278 
280 
283 
287 
289 
291 
292 


JOHN   WESLEY 

CHAPTER   I 

PARENTAGE  AND  YOUTH 

The  little  market  town  of  Epworth  lies  on  the  slope 
of  a  gentle  eminence  rising  from  the  midst  of  that  part 
of  Lincolnshire  which,  because  bounded  on  three  sides 
by  three  little  rivers  and  on  the  fourth  by  a  canal,  is 
called  the  Isle  of  Axeholme.  As  one  stands  in  the 
churchyard,  at  the  summit  of  the  hill,  the  eye  ranges 
for  miles,  in  every  direction,  over  a  flat  but  fertile 
country,  cut  into  green  squares  of  wheat  and  pasture 
land.  At  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century  the 
region  had  but  recently  been  redeemed  from  the  fens, 
and  at  its  borders,  near  the  sluggish  streams,  was  still 
little  better  than  a  swamp,  sodden  and  malarious.  Its 
people  were  much  below  even  the  average  of  English 
rural  intelligence  at  that  time,  heavy  and  lumpish,  yet 
turbulent  and  without  the  stolid  respect  for  order  and 
tradition  usually  found  in  a  long-settled  community. 
The  majority  of  them,  unlike  most  English  country 
folk  at  that  day,  were  Whigs,  not  Tories,  and  had 
little  reverence  for  the  parson  or  the  squire.  Few  of 
them  could  read  or  write;  their  manners  were  boor- 
ish, their  speech  vulgar  and  profane,  their  domestic 
morals  corrupt.  Of  religion,  even  of  its  outward  and 
conventional  observances,  they  were  for  the  most  part 


2  JOHN    WESLEY 

quite  oblivious ;  many  of  the  children  born  in  the  parish 
were  never  presented  by  their  parents  for  baptism,  and 
there  were  seldom  as  many  as  twenty  communicants 
at  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper.  To  this  un- 
inviting parish  came,  at  the  beginning  of  the  year  1697, 
the  Reverend  Samuel  Wesley,  then  in  his  thirty-fifth 
year,  bringing  with  him  his  wife  and  four  children,  the 
youngest  an  infant  in  arms.  And  in  the  rectory  here 
was  born,  June  28,  1703,  his  most  famous  son,  John 
Wesley. 

Samuel  Wesley,  rector  of  Epworth,  came  of  priestly 
line.  His  grandfather,  Bartholomew,  and  his  father, 
John,  were  both  Oxford  men  and  clergymen,  though 
it  seems  probable  that  John  never  received  Episcopal 
ordination.  During  the  troublous  times  of  the  Com- 
monwealth, both  were  in  sympathy  with  the  Puritan 
cause,  and  both  were  ejected  from  their  living  by  the 
Act  of  Uniformity  in  1662.  Bartholomew  Wesley  lived 
to  a  ripe  old  age,  supporting  himself  by  the  practice 
of  physic  after  the  church  was  closed  to  him;  but 
John,  who  was  subjected  to  repeated  imprisonments 
after  his  ejection,  broke  down  under  the  hardships  of 
his  lot,  and  died  at  the  early  age  of  thirty-four.  From 
both  grandfather  and  father  Samuel  Wesley  inherited 
the  sturdy  personal  independent  character  of  the 
Wesley  stock.  His  mother,  to  whom  through  her  long 
widowhood  he  was  tenderly  devoted,  was  a  daughter 
of  the  scholarly  Puritan,  John  White,  a  member  of 
the  Westminster  Assembly  and  one  of  the  original 
patentees  of  the  Massachusetts  Colony.  She  was  also 
a  niece  of  that  witty  divine,  Samuel  Fuller,  and  it  is 
perhaps  this  strain  in  his  blood  that  accounts  for  the 
quaint  humor  of  her  son. 


PARENTAGE    AND    YOUTH  3 

With  such  parentage  and  traditions  it  might  have 
seemed  improbable  that  Samuel  Wesley  would  ever 
take  orders  in  the  Established  Church.  His  mother 
had  no  such  expectation,  and,  with  the  aid  of  some 
friends,  sent  him  when  he  was  eighteen  to  the  famous 
academy  of  Mr.  Martin  on  Newington  Green,  with 
the  pious  hope  to  see  him  a  dissenting  minister.  But 
the  young  man  seems  to  have  found  neither  the  teach- 
ing nor  the  temper  of  Mr.  Martin's  academy  much 
to  his  liking,  and  was  prompted  by  the  bitter  contro- 
versial spirit  which  prevailed  there  to  examine  for 
himself  dispassionately  the  grounds  of  nonconformity. 
The  result  was  that  he  decided  to  go  to  the  University 
and  prepare  himself  for  orders  in  the  Established 
Church.  Knowing  that  this  decision  was  likely  to  be 
painful  to  his  mother,  he  kept  his  own  counsel,  and 
after  praying  long  over  the  matter,  rose  early  one 
morning,  took  his  clothing  in  a  bundle,  and  with  forty 
shillings  in  his  pocket,  tramped  to  Oxford  and  entered 
himself  as  a  servitor  in  Exeter  College.  Shortly  after 
receiving  his  Bachelor's  degree  in  1688,  he  received 
orders,  and  after  a  year  in  London,  a  curacy,  and  nearly 
a  year  as  chaplain  on  a  man-of-war,  he  was  recom- 
mended to  the  little  parish  of  South  Ormsby  in  Lin- 
colnshire. He  had  married  a  few  months  before,  and 
here,  with  his  young  wife, 

"  In  a  mean  cot  composed  of  reeds  and  cla)'," 

on  an  income  of  fifty  pounds  a  year,  "and  one  child 
additional  per  annum,"  he  lived  until  his  removal  to 
Ep  worth. 

Life  in  the  Epworth  rectory,  though  not  so  narrow 
as  at  Ormsby,  to  a  man  of  Samuel  Wesley's  tastes  and 


4  JOHN    WESLEY 

aspirations  could  not  have  been  easy.  His  income 
was  now  only  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  a 
year;  his  family  was  large  —  "nineteen  children  in 
twenty-one  years,"  as  he  told  his  bishop  —  and  the 
rector,  who  was  doubtless  a  little  deficient  in  worldly 
prudence,  once  at  least  knew  the  inside  of  a  debtor's 
jail.  His  parishioners,  perhaps  as  ignorant  and  brutal 
a  set  of  half-heathen  as  could  have  been  found  in  Eng- 
land, disliking  his  politics,  vexed  and  harassed  him, 
burned  his  crops  and  hocked  his  cattle,  and  finally 
burned  down  his  rectory.  But  the  stout  little  man 
could  not  be  soured  or  disheartened.  He  stuck 
to  his  post,  and  by  cheerful  performance  of  his  duty 
at  last  lived  down  their  prejudice  and  won  a  surly 
confidence.  As  to  fear,  whether  of  mobs  or  lords,  he 
never  knew  what  that  meant.  When  a  young  man 
just  out  of  the  University,  sitting  one  day  in  a  London 
coffee-house,  he  saw  a  colonel  of  the  Guards  swagger 
in,  swearing  like  the  proverbial  trooper,  —  "Here," 
said  young  Wesley,  calling  to  the  waiter,  "take  this 
glass  of  water  to  the  man  in  the  red  coat  and  ask  him 
to  wash  his  mouth  out."  When  the  coarse  mistress 
of  the  Marquis  of  Normandy,  patron  of  the  living  in 
his  South  Ormsby  parish,  persisted  in  calling  upon 
his  wife,  he  took  the  obnoxious  visitor  by  the  arm  and 
turned  her  out  of  doors  —  and  then  resigned  his  living. 
He  had  a  blunt  independence,  a  promptness  — 
sometimes  a  rashness  —  of  decision,  and  a  habit  of 
obstinate  defence  of  whatever  he  thought  right.  Al- 
ways interested  in  public  affairs,  he  had  written,  when 
just  out  of  the  University,  the  first  pamphlet  published 
in  England  in  support  of  the  Revolution  settlement 
of  1688.     When  his  wife,  who  did  not  share  his  loyalty 


PARENTAGE   AND   YOUTH  5 

to  the  Prince  of  Orange,  persistently  refused  to  say 
Amen  to  his  morning  prayer  for  the  king,  ''Sukey," 
said  the  emphatic  rector,  ''Sukey,  if  we  are  to  have 
two  kings,  we  must  have  two  beds,"  and  mounting  his 
horse  rode  away  to  London,  where  he  stayed  till  the 
death  of  King  William  next  year  removed  the  cause  of 
difference/  But,  like  many  of  his  brethren  of  the 
Clergy,  though  a  Whig  under  King  William,  he  was  a 
Tory  under  Queen  Anne ;  and  when  the  famous  trial  of 
Dr.  Sacheverell  came  on,  it  was  he  —  so  his  son  John 
affirms  —  who  wrote  for  that  bumptious  parson  the 
famous  speech  he  delivered  before  the  House  of  Lords. 
He  coveted  chiefly,  however,  the  still  air  of  delightful 
studies,  and  carried  with  him  from  the  University  to 
his  remote  Lincolnshire  parish  the  tastes  and  habits  of 
a  scholar.  His  magnum  opus,  a  Commentary  on  the 
Book  of  Job,  though  rather  curious  than  valuable,  is 
a  monument  of  patient  industry  and  research.  Through 
all  his  early  life  he  was  ambitious  of  poetic  honors  also. 
While  an  undergraduate  in  the  University  he  had  gained 
a  few  honest  shillings  by  publishing  a  thin  volume  of 
boyish  rhymes  which  had  at  all  events  the  merit  of 
originality.  At  South  Ormsby  he  wrote  a  sounding 
epic  upon  the  life  of  Christ,  put  into  a  folio  volume 
and  dedicated  to  Queen  Mary.  Three  years  later  came 
a  still  bigger  volume  on  the  history  of  the  Old  and 
New    Testaments,   inscribed    to    Queen    Anne.     And 

1  This,  at  all  events,  is  the  story  as  John  Wesley  told  it.  See  Metho- 
dist Magazine,  1784,  p.  606.  But  Mr.  Tyerman,  the  biographer  of 
both  Samuel  and  John  Wesley,  rather  scandalized  by  such  conduct,  is 
careful  to  remind  us  that  the  rector  had  business  in  London  at  that  time 
as  a  member  of  Convocation,  and  that,  as  Convocation  met  December 
31,  and  King  William  died  on  the  8th  of  the  following  month,  his  absence 
from  his  family  need  not  have  been  very  protracted. 


6  JOHN   WESLEY 

when,  in  1705,  all  England  was  ringing  with  the  praises 
of  Marlborough  and  Blenheim,  Wesley  was  one  of  the 
loudest  of  the  chorus  of  poets  who  celebrated  that  fa- 
mous victory.  His  verses,  first  and  last,  were  doubtless 
rather  poor  verses,  just  good  enough  to  be  damned 
by  Swift  in  the  "Battle  of  the  Books"  —  where  Wesley 
is  despatched  by  a  kick  from  the  steed  of  Homer  — 
and  later  by  Pope  in  the  "Dunciad."  But,  at  all 
events,  he  cherished  the  poetic  impulse,  and  transmitted 
it  to  all  three  of  his  sons.  He  was,  withal,  a  genial  man, 
with  a  quick  enjoyment  of  all  the  humors  of  life,  loved 
a  moderate  pipe  and  kindly  talk,  told  a  story  capitally, 
and  in  spite  of  his  occasional  obstinacy  must  have  been 
a  delightful  companion. 

But  although  the  rector  of  Epworth  was  always  in- 
terested in  both  politics  and  letters,  he  always  accounted 
both  subservient  to  his  work  as  parish  priest.  He 
brought  to  this  work  an  earnest  and  active  piety  too 
rare  in  the  English  Church  of  that  day.  His  lot  was 
cast  in  a  remote  hamlet  of  the  Lincolnshire  fens,  among 
a  boorish  folk  who  despised  his  learning  and  his 
piety.  And  here  he  labored  for  forty  years,  instructing, 
reproving,  exhorting,  visiting  from  house  to  house, 
knowing  every  soul  in  his  charge  by  name,  till  he  lived 
to  see  the  number  of  his  communicants  increased  ten- 
fold, "not  a  papist  or  dissenter  in  the  parish,"  and  the 
moral  tone  of  the  community  cleansed  and  elevated. 
And  the  heroic  energy  of  the  man  dreamed  of  far  wider 
fields.  He  was  one  of  the  very  first  Englishmen  to  urge 
active  effort  for  the  conversion  of  the  heathen,  and 
offered,  if  provision  should  be  made  for  his  family,  to  go 
alone  as  a  pioneer  missionary  to  the  far  East.  His  last 
words  of  hope  for  his  o\vn  country  must  have  been  re- 


PARENTAGE    AND   YOUTH  7 

called  by  his  sons,  in  after  years,  with  the  solemn  force 
of  prophecy,  —  "Charles,"  said  the  dying  man  to  the 
son  at  his  bedside,  "be  steady;  the  Christian  faith  will 
surely  revive  in  these  Kingdoms.  You  shall  see  it, 
though  I  shall  not." 

But  the  dominant  influence  in  the  Epworth  rectory 
was  not  that  of  the  rector,  but  of  his  wife.  Susanna 
Wesley  was  a  woman  to  be  regarded  with  some  awe  — 

"  nobly  planned 
To  warn,  to  comfort  and  command." 

Lacking  in  humor,  perhaps  deficient  also  in  the  softer 
and  more  distinctively  feminine  graces,  she  had  instead 
a  remarkable  dignity  and  poise  of  character.  In  clear- 
ness and  force  of  intellect,  in  practical  judgment,  in 
deliberative  steadiness  of  purpose,  she  was  unquestion- 
ably the  superior  of  her  husband.  A  daughter  of  the 
great  Dr.  Annesley,  the  "St.  Paul  of  nonconformity," 
—  she  was  his  twenty-fifth  child,  —  at  the  early  age  of 
thirteen  she  had  gone  over  for  herself  all  the  arguments 
for  dissent,  and  deliberately  decided  to  enter  the  Church 
of  England.  At  least  so  the  biographers  say;  but  it 
may  be  reasonably  conjectured  that  the  acquaintance 
with  young  Samuel  Wesley,  who  was  just  then  making 
a  similar  change,  may  have  had  something  to  do  with 
her  decision. 

It  is  certain,  however,  that  Susanna  Wesley  was  al- 
ways accustomed  to  do  her  own  thinking.  Her  union 
with  her  husband  was  one  of  singular  beauty  and  loy- 
alty; but  it  did  not  imply  any  tame  conformity  of  opin- 
ion, and  she  evidently  found  difficulty  now  and  then  in 
harmonizing  her  logical  conclusions  with  her  theory  of 
wifely  obedience.     When  Mr.  Wesley,  during  one  of  his 


8  JOHN   WESLEY 

long  absences  in  London  in  attendance  upon  Convoca- 
tion, ventured  to  remonstrate  with  her  for  having  gath- 
ered a  company  in  the  rectory  of  a  Sunday  evening  in 
a  way  dangerously  near  a  violation  of  the  Conventicle 
Act,  she  gave  him  her  reasons  for  the  meeting,  —  and 
very  good  reasons  they  were,  —  but  concluded,  "If  you 
do,  after  all,  think  fit  to  dissolve  this  assembly,  do  not 
tell  me  that  you  desire  it,  but  send  me  your  positive 
command."     Mr.  Wesley  did  not  send  it. 

On  political  matters  they  were  seldom  in  accord.  If 
Mrs.  Wesley  refused  to  say  Amen  to  the  rector's  prayer 
for  King  William,  her  refusal  was  entirely  consistent 
with  her  opinions.  In  some  papers,  not  yet  published 
in  full,  she  wrote,  "Whether  the  praying  for  a  usurper 
and  vindicating  his  usurpation  after  he  had  the  throne 
be  not  participating  his  sins,  is  easily  determined."^ 
She  disapproved  of  the  War  of  the  Spanish  Succession, 
which  her  husband  had  celebrated  in  his  resonant  poem 
on  the  Blenheim  victory,  and  when  a  day  of  fasting  and 
prayer  for  the  success  of  the  English  arms  was  ap- 
pointed, she  declined  to  join  in  the  public  worship. 
^' Since  I  am  not  satisfied  of  the  lawfulness  of  the  war, 
I  cannot  beg  a  blessing  on  our  arms  till  I  can  have  the 
opinion  of  one  wiser  and  a  more  competent  judge  than 
myself  in  this  point ;  namely,  whether  a  private  person 
that  had  no  hand  in  the  beginning  of  the  war  but  did 
always  disapprove  of  it  may,  notwithstanding,  implore 
God's  blessing  on  it,  and  pray  for  the  good  success  of 
those  arms  which  were  taken  up,  I  think,  unlaw- 
fully."^ 

It  would  appear  that  she  did  not  think  her  husband 
a  qualified  judge  on  this  point  of  conscience.     To  her 

1  Kirk,  "  The  Mother  of  the  Wesleys,"  p.  189. 


PARENTAGE    AND   YOUTH  9 

son  John  in  Oxford,  years  afterwards,  she  wrote,  "  'Tis 
a  misfortune  almost  pecuHar  to  our  family  that  your 
father  and  I  seldom  think  alike."  When  they  thought 
differently,  it  is  hardly  probable  that  Mrs.  Wesley  often 
found  the  logic  of  her  husband  convincing.  That  the 
happiness  of  their  married  life  was  quite  undisturbed 
by  a  variance  of  opinion  so  frequent  and  so  pronounced, 
is  certainly  a  proof  of  mutual  respect  as  well  as  of  deep 
affection. 

The  education  of  the  children  was  almost  entirely 
intrusted  to  Mrs.  Wesley.  She  began  it  in  the  cradle. 
Before  they  were  a  year  old  the  babes  of  the  Wesley 
family  were  taught  "to  fear  the  rod  and  cry  softly,"  so 
that,  although  the  rectory  was  as  full  of  children  as  a 
hive  is  of  bees,  it  was  quiet  as  a  Quaker  meeting-house. 
As  the  children  emerged  from  infancy,  their  hours  of 
work  and  play,  their  habits  of  dress,  manners,  speech, 
were  all  regulated  by  strict  rule,  and  instant  obedience 
was  always  required.  "The  first  thing  to  be  done  with 
children,"  said  Mrs.  Wesley,  "is  to  conquer  their  will." 
She  mentions  as  a  proof  of  the  thoroughness  with  which 
this  was  done  in  her  own  fiock,  that  when  they  were  ill, 
"  there  was  no  difficulty  in  making  them  take  the  most 
unpleasant  medicine."  In  all  their  household  ways  and 
speech  the  mother  insisted  upon  the  courtesies  of  gentle 
life;  and  it  was  a  grief  to  her  that  the  children,  when, 
by  the  burning  of  the  rectory,  they  were  for  a  time  dis- 
persed among  the  families  of  the  parish,  learned  there 
a  clownish  accent  and  a  rudeness  of  manner  which  it 
took  great  pains  to  correct.  At  the  age  of  five  came 
the  solemn  day  when  every  child  was  taught  his  letters 
in  one  day  of  six  hours,  and  next  morning  began  his 
reading  lessons  with  the  first  verse  of  the  first  chapter 


lo  ,       JOHN   WESLEY 

of  Genesis.  She  was  the  most  tireless  of  teachers. 
"Sukey,"  said  the  rector  to  her  one  day,  "I  wonder  at 
your  patience.  You  have  told  that  child  twenty  times 
the  same  thing."  "Had  I  satisfied  myself  with  men- 
tioning the  matter  only  nineteen,"  replied  his  wife,  ''I 
should  have  lost  all  my  labor.  You  see  it  was  the 
twentieth  time  that  crowned  the  whole,"  The  religious 
training  of  the  children,  of  course,  received  her  most 
careful  attention.  She  prepared  for  them  an  admira- 
bly clear  body  of  explanation  upon  the  Catechism  and 
the  Creed,  and  she  was  accustomed  to  meet  them  sepa- 
rately once  a  week,  at  a  specified  time,  for  an  hour  of 
religious  conversation  and  instruction.  Long  after- 
ward, John  Wesley,  when  a  Fellow  of  Lincoln  College, 
wrote  to  his  mother  begging  her  to  give  him  an  hour  of 
her  thought  and  prayer  every  Thursday  evening,  as  she 
used  to  do  when  he  was  a  boy  at  home. 

If  to  this  laxer  age  Mrs.  Wesley's  system  of  parental 
discipline  seem  unwisely  rigid,  it  should  be  said  that 
her  patience  was  so  exhaustless  and  all  her  require- 
ments so  evidently  dictated  by  love,  that  her  children 
never  rebelled,  but  retained  a  grateful  recollection  of 
the  rectory  life  all  their  days.  Certainly  to  her  favorite 
son,  who  was  to  be  her  greatest,  this  training  was  of 
the  utmost  importance.  John  Wesley  was  the  son  of 
his  mother.  From  her  he  inherited  his  logical  cast 
of  mind,  his  executive  capacity,  his  inflexibility  of  will, 
his  union  of  independence  of  judgment  with  respect  for 
authority,  his  deep  religious  temper.  And  all  these 
characteristics  were  developed  and  fixed  by  his  early 
training.  His  precision  and  order,  his  gift  of  organiza- 
tion and  mastery  of  details,  his  notions  of  education, 
even  some  specific  rules  and  customs  of  his  religious 


PARENTAGE   AND   YOUTH  ii 

societies,  can  be  traced  to  his  mother's  discipHne.  It 
is  often  said  that  Methodism  began  in  the  University  of 
Oxford ;  with  more  truth  it  might  be  said  that  it  began 
in  Susanna  Wesley's  nursery. 

In  this  atmosphere  of  strict  but  cheerful  discipline, 
both  intellectual  and  religious,  John  Wesley  passed  his 
boyhood.  He  was  the  fifteenth  of  nineteen  children,  of 
whom,  however,  only  ten  survived  the  period  of  in- 
fancy. Of  the  ten,  three  were  sons;  and  upon  them 
the  hopes  of  their  parents  —  especially  of  the  father  — 
were  centred.  The  daughters  of  the  Epworth  rectory, 
indeed,  received  a  better  education  than  most  young 
women  of  that  time  could  boast ;  one  of  them,  the  high- 
spirited  and  wilful  Hetty,  could  read  her  Greek  Testa- 
ment and  served  as  her  father's  amanuensis  before  she 
was  in  her  teens,  and  in  later  life  contributed  poems  to 
the  Gentleman' s  Magazine  which  certainly  compare  very 
well  with  most  of  the  verse  printed  there.  But  the  plans 
and  efforts  of  the  rector,  it  is  evident,  were  mostly  given 
to  his  boys.  He  bore  the  privations  of  his  lot  cheer- 
fully, and  insisted  that  the  other  members  of  the  family 
should  bear  them  too,  in  order  that  he  might  secure  for 
his  sons  a  liberal  education  and  open  to  them  a  career. 
The  eldest,  Samuel,  thirteen  years  older  than  John,  was 
educated  at  Westminster  and  Christ  Church,  Oxford ; 
and  by  the  time  his  younger  brother  was  ready  to  go  up 
to  school  and  university,  he  had  taken  orders  and  was 
occupying  a  position  of  some  responsibility  and  influ- 
ence as  Head  Usher  in  Westminster  School.  He 
would  probably  have  risen  to  higher  positions  in  the 
Church,  had  not  the  Tory  party,  with  which  he  was  in 
active  sympathy,  gone  out  of  power  at  the  death  of 
Anne,  and  his  friend  and  patron,  Bishop  Atterbury, 


12  JOHN   WESLEY 

fallen  into  disgrace.  As  it  was,  he  enjoyed  for  years 
the  friendship  of  a  circle  that  included  such  names  as 
Harley,  Atterbury,  Pope,  and  Prior,  and  was  himself 
an  excellent  scholar  and  no  mean  poet. 

Of  the  early  boyhood  of  John  Wesley  only  one  inci- 
dent is  recorded.  On  a  February  night  in  1709  the 
rectory  was  burned.  Fifteen  minutes  after  the  fire  was 
discovered,  the  slight,  thatch-roofed  structure  was  con- 
sumed. The  family,  hurrying  out  in  terror,  left  the 
boy  John  sleeping  in  his  attic  chamber;  and  he  was 
taken  out  through  a  window  only  an  instant  before  the 
blazing  roof  fell  in  upon  his  bed.  Wesley  always  re- 
tained a  vivid  recollection  of  the  scene,  and  more  than 
half  a  century  later,  when,  thinking  himself  near  death, 
he  composed  his  epitaph,  he  describes  himself  as  "a 
brand  plucked  from  the  burning."  His  mother  deemed 
his  rescue  a  providential  indication  that  her  son  was 
preserved  for  some  great  work,  and  resolved,  as  she 
says,  "to  be  more  particularly  careful  of  the  soul  of 
this  child  that  Thou  hast  so  mercifully  provided  for." 
There  is,  however,  no  evidence  of  anything  precocious 
in  the  religious  development  of  the  boy,  but  only  a  cer- 
tain staid  over-deliberateness  which  he  got  from  his 
mother,  but  which  to  the  more  mercurial  temperament 
of  the  father  seemed,  in  a  lad  not  yet  in  his  teens,  half 
amusing  and  half  vexatious.  "Sweetheart,"  said  the 
rector  to  his  wife,  "I  profess  I  think  our  boy  Jack 
wouldn't  attend  to  the  most  pressing  necessities  of 
nature  unless  he  could  give  a  reason  for  it." 

In  enumerating  the  early  influences  upon  Wesley  one 
must  not  omit  a  mention  of  the  famous  "Epworth 
noises,"  though  they  occurred  after  he  had  left  home 
for  the  Charterhouse  School  in  London.     Through  the 


PARENTAGE    AND    YOUTH  13 

months  of  December,  1716,  and  January,  171 7,  the 
family  were  disturbed  by  strange  sounds,  which  they  all 
attributed  to  some  supernatural  agency.  These  sounds 
were  generally  those  of  knocking  upon  doors  and  upon 
the  floor  or  ceiling  of  a  room  where  some  members 
of  the  family  were  sitting ;  sometimes  there  was  a  noise 
as  of  a  heavy  chain  clanking,  the  breaking  of  crockery, 
the  jingling  of  money  upon  the  floor,  a  heavy  tread  on 
the  stair,  or  the  sweep  as  of  some  trailing  garment  along 
the  floor.  Repeatedly  the  latch  of  a  door  was  lifted  as 
one  of  the  family  was  about  to  enter ;  and  one  evening 
a  bed  on  which  one  of  the  girls  was  seated  was  observed 
to  rise  bodily  from  the  floor.  The  rector  himself  for 
the  first  fortnight  heard  nothing,  and  his  family,  fear- 
ing the  noises  might  portend  some  disaster  to  him,  re- 
frained from  mentioning  them  in  his  presence.  When, 
however,  he  learned  of  them  and  attempted  an  investi- 
gation of  the  cause,  he  was  made  the  object  of  special 
attention  by  the  mysterious  visitant,  and  not  only  heard 
the  knockings  constantly,  but  felt  sure  that  he  was 
thrice  forcibly  pushed  by  an  invisible  power  against  his 
desk,  or  the  side  of  a  door  which  he  was  entering.  The 
disturbances  were  so  constant  and  lasted  so  long  that 
the  family  seem  to  have  lost  their  fear  of  them,  and  the 
younger  girls  found  amusement  in  hunting  "old  Jeffery, " 
as  they  called  their  goblin,  from  one  room  to  another. 
When  Jeffery,  who  seemed  to  have  Jacobite  sympa- 
thies, was  especially  noisy  at  the  reading  of  the  morning 
prayers  for  King  George,  the  stout  rector  read  those 
prayers  over  three  times  and  bade  him  do  his  worst. 
The  independent  and  circumstantial  accounts  of 
these  strange  occurrences  given  in  the  journal  of  the 
rector  and  the  letters  of  different  members  of  the  family 


14  JOHN    WESLEY 

to  the  sons  Samuel  and  John  prove  that  some  strange 
noises  were  certainly  heard,  not  only  by  all  the  members 
of  the  household,  but  by  at  least  one  other  competent 
witness  —  a  Mr.  Hoole,  rector  of  the  adjoining  parish, 
whom  Mr.  Wesley  called  in  —  and  that  the  rector  made 
careful  efforts  to  discover  the  cause  without  result.  The 
family  were  naturally  a  little  too  ready  to  ascribe  them  to 
supernatural  agency.  Yet  it  must  be  admitted  that  it  is 
difhcult  to  explain  phenomena  attested  by  so  many  trust- 
worthy persons  and  extending  over  so  long  a  period  as 
due  to  pure  hallucination;  and  almost  equally  diffi- 
cult, on  the  other  hand,  to  imagine  by  what  trickery 
the  sounds  could  have  been  produced,  or,  if  there  was 
trickery,  what  could  have  been  the  motive  of  the  trick- 
ster. It  must  be  said  that  the  matter  has  never  yet 
been  satisfactorily  explained.^  The  most  important 
thing  to  notice  here,  however,  is  that  young  John  Wes- 
ley was  fully  persuaded  that  the  whole  disturbance 
could  have  no  other  than  a  supernatural  cause.  He 
was,  indeed,  at  a  loss  to  assign  any  motive  for  this  irrup- 
tion of  the  nether  world  in  his  father's  household,  and 
could  only  suggest  that  it  might  be  a  penalty  upon  the 
rector  for  his  rash  separation  from  his  wife  so  many 

^  The  latest  examination  of  the  story  is  that  given  in  Podmore's 
"Modern  Spiritualism,"  Vol.  I,  Ch.  II.  Mr.  Podmore,  though  he  has 
no  definite  explanation  to  offer,  thinks  there  is  little  trustworthy  evidence 
for  anything  except  the  knockings,  and  is  evidently  inclined  to  believe 
these  were  produced  by  some  member  of  the  household.  He  regards 
it  suspicious  that  the  knockings  usually  seem  to  have  been  associated 
with  one  of  the  daughters,  Hetty,  to  have  followed  her  about,  and  have 
been  loudest  near  her;  and  yet  that  Hetty,  though  nineteen  at  the  time, 
was  the  one  of  the  elder  daughters  who  never  wrote  to  her  brothers 
about  the  noises,  nor  made  any  mention  of  them  to  any  one. 

It  is  doubtful,  however,  whether  most  readers  can  believe  on  such 
evidence  that  Hetty  Wesley  played  the  poltergeist  in  this  mystery. 


PARENTAGE   AND   YOUTH  15 

years  before,  —  a  theory  which,  as  Jeffery  was  very  im- 
partial in  his  attentions,  would  hardly  seem  to  fit  the 
facts.  But  the  mysterious  occurrences  not  only  fixed 
thus  early  in  John  Wesley's  mind  a  just  belief  in  some 
realities  beyond  our  positive  knowledge,  but  they  go 
far  to  account  for  that  vein  of  credulity  in  the  man 
which  even  his  most  partial  admirers  must  admit. 

In  January,  1714,  on  the  nomination  of  the  Duke  of 
Buckingham,  an  old  friend  of  his  father,  John  Wesley 
was  entered  as  a  gown-boy  in  the  Charterhouse  School, 
London.  He  remained  there  till  he  went  up  to  Christ 
Church  College,  Oxford,  in  June  of  1720,  as  an  exhibi- 
tioner from  the  Charterhouse.  It  is  pleasant  to  be  able 
to  associate  Wesley's  name  with  this  venerable  school  so 
redolent  of  memories  of  Addison,  Steele,  and  Thack- 
eray; but  his  years  there,  as  well  as  those  of  his  under- 
graduate life  in  Oxford,  are  without  important  record. 
Unlike  his  younger  brother  Charles,  who,  when  at 
Westminster  School  a  few  years  later,  won  the  cap- 
taincy of  the  school  by  his  pluck  as  a  fighter,  John 
Wesley  would  seem  to  have  been  of  a  quiet  temper,  and 
in  the  early  years  of  his  stay  at  the  Charterhouse  had 
to  submit  to  many  of  those  exactions  which  the  British 
schoolboy  has  always  imposed  upon  his  juniors.  He 
used  to  say  that  for  years  he  hardly  knew  the  taste  of 
animal  food,  as  the  elder  boys  ate  all  the  meat  at  table; 
but  to  this  deprivation  he  ascribed,  in  great  measure,  the 
good  health  of  his  later  years.  We  may  be  sure  he 
made  good  use  of  his  time.  Samuel,  the  Usher  of  West- 
minster School,  who  naturally  exercised  a  kind  of  super- 
vision over  both  his  younger  brothers  and  assisted  them 
in  their  studies,  wrote  home  to  the  anxious  father,  in 
1719,  "Jack  is  a  brave  boy,  learning  Hebrew  as  fast  as 


i6  JOHN   WESLEY 

he  can."  And  the  master  of  the  Charterhouse  School, 
the  venerable  Dr.  Thomas  Walker,  who  in  the  forty 
years  of  his  service  there  had  trained  Steele  and  Addison 
and  a  goodly  number  of  other  men  afterward  eminent 
in  church  or  state,  is  said  to  have  been  specially  at- 
tracted by  the  industrious  habits  and  the  quiet  dignity 
of  the  lad  from  Epworth.  But  it  is  not  likely  that  John 
Wesley,  even  in  his  boyhood,  was  ever  without  a  whole- 
some sense  of  personal  independence.  In  the  last  year 
of  his  residence  at  the  Charterhouse  he  called  on  the 
famous  Dr.  Sacheverell  with  a  letter  of  introduction 
from  his  father  who  had  been  of  service  to  the  Doctor 
in  his  trial  ten  years  before.  ''I  found  him  alone," 
said  Wesley,  in  telling  the  story  many  years  later,  to 
Alexander  Knox,  "as  tall  as  a  maypole  and  as  proud 
as  an  archbishop.  I  was  a  very  little  fellow,  not  taller" 
—  pointing  to  a  very  gentlemanlike  but  very  dwarfish 
clergyman  who  was  in  the  company- — "than  Mr. 
Kenedy  there.  He  said,  'You  are  too  young  to  go  to 
the  University  —  you  cannot  know  Greek  and  Latin 
yet;  go  back  to  school.'  I  looked  at  him  as  David 
looked  at  Goliath,  and  despised  him  in  my  heart.  I 
thought,  if  I  do  not  know  Greek  and  Latin  better  than 
you,  I  ought  to  go  back  to  school  indeed,  I  left  him, 
and  neither  entreaties  nor  commands  could  have  again 
brought  me  back  to  him." 

It  has  been  said  that  he  lost  his  religion  at  school. 
His  biographer,  Mr.  Tyerman,  asserts  in  solemn  epi- 
gram, "John  Wesley  entered  the  Charterhouse  a  saint 
and  left  it  a  sinner";  which  is  nonsense.  There  is  no 
foundation  for  the  charge  save  a  statement  by  Wesley, 
made  in  1738,  which  does  not  justify  any  such  interpre- 
tation.    The  boy  who  passes  from  the  guarded  seclu- 


PARENTAGE    AND   YOUTH  17 

sion  of  a  pious  home  to  the  temptations  of  a  great  public 
school  is  liable  to  feel  his  principles  put  to  rude  test; 
but  if  the  boy  reads  his  Bible  and  says  his  prayers  every 
day,  as  John  Wesley  affirms  he  did,  takes  the  Sacra- 
ment with  devout  regularity,  and  keeps  in  constant  and 
absolutely  frank  correspondence  with  the  solicitous  love 
of  his  parents,  that  boy  is  not  growing  from  a  saint  into 
a  sinner.  Wesley's  letters  to  his  mother,  while  they 
make  little  mention  of  specifically  religious  matters, 
show  "  Jacky,"  as  his  mother  calls  him,  to  be  a  sprightly, 
pure-minded,  affectionate  lad.  The  truth  is  that  dur- 
ing his  stay  at  the  Charterhouse  and  the  earlier  years  in 
Oxford,  his  character  was  ripening  in  healthy  wise  for 
the  decision  soon  to  come  with  opening  manhood.  Cer- 
tainly his  life  at  the  Charterhouse  was  not  unpleasant 
in  memory.  When  in  London,  in  later  years,  he  would 
often  look  into  the  dingy  little  court,  and  recall  the  days 
when  he  used  to  run  round  it  three  times  every  morn- 
ing for  exercise,  as  his  father  had  bidden  him. 


CHAPTER  II 

OXFORD  AND   GEORGIA 

Wesley  was  admitted  as  a  Commoner  at  Christ 
Church,  Oxford,  on  July  13,  1720.  He  had  just  com- 
pleted his  seventeenth  year.  Oxford  in  the  first  half 
of  the  eighteenth  century  was  hardly  a  school  either  for 
scholars  or  for  saints.  Its  utter  lack  of  intellectual  dis- 
cipline is  attested  by  such  accounts  as  those  given  in 
Gibbon's  "Memoirs"  and  Adam  Smith's  "Wealth  of 
Nations";  while  as  to  its  religion,  we  may  remember 
that  a  little  group  of  earnest  men  could  not  perform 
some  of  the  plainest  duties  of  Christianity  without  be- 
ing exposed  to  the  jeers  of  a  majority  of  their  fellow- 
students.  Of  Wesley's  life  at  Christ  Church  little  is 
known ;  but  there  is  no  evidence  that  he  ever  fell  into 
the  idleness  or  vice  too  characteristic  of  the  Oxford 
undergraduate  of  his  day.  From  some  of  the  tempta- 
tions that  beset  more  wealthy  Oxford  men,  he  was 
doubtless  saved  by  his  poverty.  His  Charterhouse 
scholarship  gave  him  forty  pounds  a  year ;  but  that  was 
hardly  enough  to  supply  the  needs  even  of  a  thrifty  Com- 
moner. His  father  in  those  years  was  passing  through 
his  worst  financial  straits,  and  it  is  evident  from  the 
letters  of  both  father  and  mother  that  it  was  only  by 
the  severest  economies  that  the  family  at  Epworth  were 
able  to  meet  John's  moderate  requests  for  money. 
"Dear  Jack,"  writes  his  mother,  "be  not  discouraged; 

18 


OXFORD   AND    GEORGIA  19 

do  your  duty,  keep  close  by  your  studies,  and  hope  for 
better  days.  Perhaps  notwithstanding  all,  we  shall 
pick  up  a  few  crumbs  for  you  before  the  end  of  the 
year."  He  certainly  must  have  kept  close  to  his  studies ; 
for  he  did  a  deal  of  work  during  his  five  years  at  Christ 
Church,  and  formed  there  those  studious  habits  and 
scholarly  tastes  which  he  carried  through  life.  Nor  do 
the  occasional  glimpses  we  get  of  him  in  those  years 
indicate  that  he  was  often  discouraged.  He  turned 
his  hand  now  and  then  to  writing  verses  which  show  no 
depression,  and  of  which  it  may  at  least  be  said  that 
they  were  as  good  as  his  father  wrote  at  that  age.  One 
of  his  Christ  Church  friends  describes  him  as  "a  very 
sensible,  active  collegian,  baffling  every  man  by  the 
subtleties  of  his  logic,  and  laughing  at  them  for  being  so 
easily  routed ;  a  young  fellow  of  the  finest  classical  tastes, 
of  the  most  liberal  and  manly  sentiments,  gay  and 
sprightly  with  a  turn  for  wit  and  humour."  ^ 

It  is  probably  true  that,  though  an  earnest  and  seri- 
ous young  man,  he  gave  comparatively  little  thought, 
at  this  time,  to  his  personal  religious  condition.  When 
looking  back  over  his  life  in  later  years,  he  said  of  this 
period,  with  that  rigor  of  self-criticism  so  characteristic 
of  him:  "I  still  said  my  prayers,  both  in  public  and 
private,  and  read  with  the  Scriptures  several  other 
books  of  religion,  especially  comments  on  the  New 
Testament.  Yet  I  had  not  all  this  while  so  much  as  a 
notion  of  inward  holiness;  nay,  went  on  habitually, 
and  for  the  most  part  very  contentedly,  in  some  one  or 
other  known  sins,  though  with  some  intermissions  and 
short  struggles,  especially  before  and  after  the  holy 
Communion,  which  I  was  obliged  to  receive  thrice  a 

^  Westminster  Magazine,  1774,  p.  180,  quoted  by  Telford. 


20  JOHN    WESLEY 

year."  But  even  on  his  own  showing  it  is  evident 
there  was  nothing  flippant  or  dissolute  in  the  life  he 
remembers;  at  worst  only  that  carelessness  so  natu- 
ral to  the  buoyant  years  between  seventeen  and  twenty- 
one. 

But  the  year  1725  marks  the  beginning  of  a  new 
chapter  in  the  religious  life  of  Wesley.  He  had  passed 
his  majority.  Up  to  this  time  he  seems  to  have  had  no 
definite  plans  as  to  the  work  of  his  life,  though  his 
parents  doubtless  had  expected  him  to  go  into  the 
Church.  But  as  the  time  approached  when  he  must 
make  his  decision,  he  was  led  to  examine  more  seriously 
the  grounds  of  his  belief,  and  to  consider  earnestly 
whether  his  own  religious  experience  would  warrant 
him  in  assuming  the  responsibilities  of  a  Christian  min- 
ister. He  read  for  the  first  time  two  of  the  world's 
great  books  of  religion,  the  "Imitation  of  Christ"  and 
Jeremy  Taylor's  ''Holy  Living  and  Dying."  His  ac- 
tive, independent  spirit  deemed  some  of  the  counsels  of 
the  "Imitation"  too  narrowly  ascetic  —  as  they  are  — 
and  he  revolted  against  its  predestinarian  theology ;  but 
both  books  opened  to  him  a  new  view  of  the  demands 
and  privileges  of  the  inner  religious  life.  "I  began," 
he  says,  "to  alter  the  whole  form  of  my  conversation, 
and  to  set  out  in  earnest  upon  a  new  life.  I  set  apart 
an  hour  or  two  a  day  for  religious  retirement ;  I  com- 
municated every  week ;  I  watched  against  all  sin,  whether 
in  word  or  deed."  Through  the  early  months  of  1725 
he  was  making  up  his  mind  to  take  orders.  His  father, 
at  first,  counselled  delay,  cautioning  him  not  to  enter 
the  priest's  office  to  have  a  piece  of  bread;  but  the 
mother,  with  better  knowledge  of  her  son,  felt  sure  that 
he  would  never  take  such  obligations  upon  himself  from 


OXFORD   AND    GEORGIA  21 

unworthy  motives,  and  warmly  advised  him  to  take 
deacon's  orders  as  soon  as  he  might.  In  the  autumn 
the  decisive  step  was  taken;  he  was  ordained  deacon 
by  Bishop  Potter,  September  17,  1725. 

In  March  of  the  following  year,  1726,  Wesley  was 
elected  Fellow  of  Lincoln  College.  The  fellowship, 
which  was  open  only  to  candidates  from  Lincolnshire, 
had  been  vacant  for  nearly  a  year ;  and  Samuel  Wesley, 
whose  scanty  income  was  sorely  taxed  to  meet  the 
needs  of  his  son,  had  made  earnest  efforts  throughout 
the  summer  of  1725  to  secure  it  for  John.  He  now 
wrote  with  proud  satisfaction  to  him,  ''Dear  Mr.  Fel- 
low Elect  of  Lincoln,"  though  he  has  only  five  pounds 
to  keep  his  family  until  after  harvest,  "What  will  be 
my  own  fate,  God  only  knows.  Sed  passi  graviora. 
Wherever  I  am,  my  Jack  is  fellow  of  Lincoln.  I  wrote 
to  Dr.  King,  asking  leave  for  you  to  come  one,  two,  or 
three  months  into  the  country,  where  you  shall  be 
gladly  welcome."  Obtaining  this  leave  of  absence, 
Wesley  spent  the  summer  at  home,  returning  to  assume 
his  duties  in  Lincoln  College  at  the  beginning  of  the 
October  term. 

Wesley  began  his  distinctively  academic  work  in  Lin- 
coln with  a  characteristic  method  and  vigor  that  might 
have  shamed  the  indolence  of  the  average  Oxford  man. 
"Leisure  and  I,"  he  writes  his  mother,  "have  parted 
company;"  they  never  met  again.  He  laid  down  a 
scheme  of  work  for  every  day.  Mondays  and  Tues- 
days he  gave  to  Greek  and  Latin;  Wednesdays  to 
logic  and  ethics;  Thursdays,  to  Hebrew  and  Arabic; 
Fridays,  to  metaphysics  and  natural  philosophy;  Sat- 
urdays, to  oratory  and  poetry;  Sundays,  to  divinity. 
Within  six  weeks  after  his  return  to  Oxford  he  had 


22  JOHN    WESLEY 

been  appointed  Greek  lecturer  —  reading  a  lecture  on 
the  Greek  Testament  once  a  week  to  the  undergradu- 
ates —  and  Moderator  of  the  classes.  This  last  office 
was  one  of  very  considerable  influence,  and  was  a 
recognition  of  the  logical  quickness  and  acumen  of  this 
young  Fellow  of  twenty-two.  It  was  the  duty  of  the 
Moderator  to  preside  at  the  Disputations  or  Debates, 
to  criticise  the  arguments  offered,  and  to  decide  the 
question  in  debate.  These  disputations  in  Lincoln 
College  were  held  daily,  and  were  an  important  part 
of  the  college  curriculum.  Wesley,  who  was  a  logician 
from  the  cradle,  evidently  took  great  interest  in  them, 
and  remembered  them  in  later  years  with  satisfaction. 
''I  could  not  avoid,"  he  says,  "acquiring  hereby  some 
degree  of  expertness  in  arguing,  and  especially  in  dis- 
covering and  pointing  out,  well-covered  fallacies.  I 
have  since  found  abundant  reason  to  praise  God  for  giv- 
ing me  this  honest  art."  But  of  even  more  service  in 
all  his  later  years  were  the  liberal  studies  which  he  pur- 
sued with  such  fidelity  during  his  residence  in  Oxford. 
Wesley  was  never,  to  be  sure,  a  scholar  in  the  modern, 
technical  sense ;  he  was  not  a  man  of  profound  attain- 
ments or  of  original  research  in  any  department  of 
knowledge.  But  his  outlook  had  been  so  broadened, 
and  his  temper  so  humanized  by  his  early  studies,  that 
he  was,  all  his  life  long,  a  man  of  scholarly  tastes  and 
habits,  of  genuine  culture.  His  work  was  to  be  done 
mostly  with  the  great  English  lower-middle  class,  who 
had  little  education  or  refinement ;  but  he  never  showed 
in  himself  or  countenanced  in  his  followers  any  of  that 
narrow  distrust  of  secular  learning  and  letters  too  often 
characteristic  of  religious  reformers.  His  duties,  when 
his  career  had  begun,  left  him  no  leisure  for  the  still  air 


OXFORD    AND    GEORGIA  23 

of  delightful  studies;  but  no  one  would  have  enjoyed 
such  leisure  more.  In  fact,  through  all  his  days,  in  his 
constant  and  wearisome  labors,  performed  with  and 
for  people  of  narrow  horizon  and  meagre  information, 
he  found  refreshment  and  inspiration  in  the  world's 
masterpieces  of  literature. 

But  it  is  the  development  of  his  religious  ideals  and 
experience  that  renders  Wesley's  life  in  Lincoln  College 
noteworthy.  At  Christ  Church  he  had  found  his  sur- 
roundings and  companionships  not  helpful  to  his  new- 
formed  purpose  to  lead  a  life  more  strict  and  devout. 
His  removal  to  Lincoln  brought  him  into  a  society  of 
entire  strangers ;  he  knew,  he  says,  not  a  single  person 
in  the  college.  The  Fellows  of  Lincoln  were,  he  wrote 
to  his  brother  Samuel,  well  natured  and  well  bred ;  yet 
he  determined  here  to  shut  himself  completely  away 
from  such  idle,  though  innocent,  conversation  as  he  had 
found  annoying  at  Christ  Church,  and  to  admit  to  his 
companionship  only  those  whose  religious  purposes  and 
experience  were  congenial  to  his  own.  With  doubtful 
courtesy  and  still  more  doubtful  Christian  wisdom,  he 
quietly  repelled  the  friendly  advances  of  all  those  with 
whom  he  felt  out  of  sympathy,  and  shut  himself  up 
from  the  general  life  of  the  college.  As  he  himself  puts 
it,  "I  resolved  to  have  only  such  acquaintances  as  would 
help  me  on  my  way  to  heaven."  When  any  of  another 
sort  called  on  him,  he  behaved  as  courteously  as  he 
could,  ''but  to  the  question,  'When  will  you  call  on 
me?'  I  returned  no  answer.  When  they  had  come  a 
few  times  and  found  I  still  declined  returning  their 
visits,  I  saw  them  no  more."  He  seems  at  times  to 
have  felt  that  even  this  cloistered  seclusion  of  his  Fel- 
lowship was  too  much  in  the  world,  and  was  tempted  to 


24  JOHN    WESLEY 

accept  the  mastership  of  a  school  in  Yorkshire  recom- 
mended to  him  by  its  absolute  isolation,  "so  pent  up 
between  two  hills  that  it  is  scarce  accessible  on  any 
side,  so  that  you  can  expect  little  company  from  with- 
out, and  within  there  is  none  at  all."  There  was  ap- 
parently no  sour  acerbity  in  Wesley's  tem.per  or  man- 
ner; a  letter  from  one  of  the  Fellows,  sent  him  during 
his  stay  in  Epworth  next  year,  speaks  of  his  reputation 
for  goodness  and  civility,  and  regrets  the  absence  from 
college  of  so  agreeable  a  companion.  But  the  religious 
ideal  of  Wesley  in  these  days  was  certainly  too  much 
that  of  the  ascetic  or  recluse.  This  tendency  was  prob- 
ably increased  by  the  acquaintance  which  he  formed, 
at  about  this  time,  with  the  writings  of  William  Law. 
Law's  well-known  book,  the  "Serious  Call,"  was  pub- 
lished in  1728.  Wesley  probably  read  it  sometime  in 
that  year.  Its  glowing  fervor,  that  contrasts  so  strangely 
v/ith  the  lukewarm,  rationalizing  religious  writing  of 
that  age,  intensified  Wesley's  religious  aspirations ;  while 
its  picture  of  the  vanity  of  the  worldly  life  of  society, 
drawn  with  the  ardor  of  the  devotee  and  the  skill  of 
the  accomplished  satirist,  must  have  strengthened  his 
ascetic  inclinations.  Law  was  then  living  at  Putney 
in  the  Gibbon  family,  as  tutor  to  the  father  of  the  his- 
torian. Wesley  in  the  summer  of  1732  visited  him 
there,  and  formed  a  personal  friendship  which  contin- 
ued for  some  eight  or  nine  years.  It  is  not  true,  as 
Warburton  sneeringly  affirmed,  that  "Law  begot  Meth- 
odism" ;  but  it  is  certain  that  his  works,  especially  the 
*' Serious  Call,"  greatly  deepened  Wesley's  sense  of  the 
possibilities  and  obligations  of  the  religious  life.  Some 
of  Law's  suggestions  as  to  habits  of  personal  work  and 
devotion  he  at  once  adopted,  and  some  of  the  regula- 


OXFORD   AND    GEORGIA  25 

tions  he  laid  down  for  his  Societies,  ten  years  later,  may 
be  traced  to  hints  in  the  same  book.  It  may  be  ques- 
tioned, however,  whether  the  influence  of  Law  did  not 
emphasize  unfortunately  that  tendency  to  an  isolated 
and  self-centred  ideal  of  religious  experience  to  which 
Wesley  at  this  time  was  certainly  too  much  inclined. 
It  took  him  long  to  learn  that  this  is  not  the  true  spirit 
of  Christianity ;  that  he  who  would  follow  the  example 
and  share  the  work  of  the  Master  must  not  be  so  ex- 
clusively bent  on  saving  his  own  soul. 

In  August,  1727,  Wesley  left  Oxford  to  take  up  resi- 
dence in  a  place  that  one  thinks  might  have  satisfied 
any  desire  for  retirement.  His  father  had  charge  not 
only  of  the  parish  of  Epworth  but  of  the  adjoining 
parish  of  Wroote,  and,  finding  the  care  of  both  too 
onerous  for  his  advancing  years,  urged  his  son  to  come 
to  his  assistance  as  Curate.  Wesley  consented,  and  for 
the  next  two  and  a  quarter  years  spent  most  of  his 
time  at  Wroote.  This  little  village  was  five  miles  from 
Epworth,  in  a  dreary,  sodden  country,  surrounded  by 
impassable  bogs,  and  for  most  of  the  year  accessible 
only  by  boat.  Wesley  himself  was  nearly  drowned 
while  making  the  passage  to  Epworth  one  day  in  the 
summer  of  1728.  The  people  in  the  parish  —  only  about 
two  hundred  in  number  —  were  even  more  ignorant  and 
lumpish   than   the   average   men  of  the   fen   country. 

"High  birth  and  virtue  equally  they  scorn, 
As  asses  dull,  on  dunghills  born," 

wrote  Wesley's  sprightly  sister  Hetty,  with  rather  more 
truth  than  charity.  Of  Wesley's  life  with  them  there 
is  little  recorded.  He  says  himself  that,  though  he 
preached  much  in  those  years,  he  saw  little  fruit  of  his 


26  JOHN    WESLEY 

preaching,  and  thinks  he  made  the  mistake  of  "taking 
it  for  granted  that  all  to  whom  I  preached  were  be- 
lievers and  that  many  of  them  needed  no  repentance." 
If  Hetty's  estimate  of  the  folk  in  Wroote  was  at  all 
correct,  this  was  a  somewhat  curious  mistake ;  but  the 
truth  probably  is  that  if  Wesley  did  not  adapt  his  ser- 
mons to  his  hearers,  it  was  because  in  those  years  he 
was  thinking  more  of  his  own  needs  than  of  theirs.  On 
the  whole,  this,  his  only  parochial  experience,  seems  not 
to  have  been  in  any  sense  very  successful;  and  it  was 
doubtless  with  some  satisfaction  that  he  received  a 
summons  to  return  to  Oxford.  Dr.  Morley,  Master  of 
Lincoln,  wrote  him  it  had  been  decided  that  Junior 
Fellows  who  had  been  chosen  Moderators  should  at- 
tend to  the  duties  of  that  office  in  person  unless  they 
could  present  substitutes;  and  as  there  was  no  substi- 
tute for  Wesley  at  that  time,  it  was  necessary  that  he 
should  resume  his  duties  in  the  college  or  resign  his 
fellowship.  He  took  up  his  residence  in  Lincoln  again 
in  November,  1729,  and  remained  there  till  the  end  of 

1735- 

Charles  Wesley,  who  had  prepared  for  the  Uni- 
versity at  Westminster  School,  where  his  brother  Sam- 
uel was  Usher,  was  entered  at  Christ  Church  in  1726, 
just  before  John  left  that  college  for  Lincoln.  At  first 
he  was  disinclined  to  give  much  thought  to  serious 
matters,  and  to  John's  expostulations  replied  that  he 
must  not  be  expected  to  turn  saint  all  at  once.  But  in 
his  case,  as  in  that  of  his  brother  John,  the  life  of  study 
and  the  approach  to  the  duties  and  responsibilities  of 
active  years,  probably  sobered  him  to  decision.  His 
letters  in  the  next  two  or  three  years  prove  that  his  life 
was  thoughtful  and  religious.     In  the  spring  of  1729 


OXFORD   AND    GEORGIA  27 

he  writes  to  John  of  a  "modest,  well-disposed  youth" 
whom  he  has  been  able  to  rescue  from  bad  company 
and  lead  to  a  higher  life.  This  young  man,  Robert 
Morgan,^  and  one  or  two  other  friends  of  like  earnest 
religious  purpose  associated  themselves  with  Charles 
Wesley  in  the  purpose  to  lead  a  more  strict  and  ordered 
life.  The  friendship  of  these  young  men  was  so  inti- 
mate and  the  performance  of  all  their  duties,  secular 
as  well  as  religious,  so  exact  that  they  soon  gained  the 
reputation  of  singularity.  A  Christ  Church  under- 
graduate dubbed  them  "Methodists";  the  happy  nick- 
name was  caught  up  at  once,  and  before  the  close  of 
1729  seems  to  have  become  their  usual  designation. 
Of  the  httle  group,  John  Wesley,  when  he  returned  to 
Oxford  in  the  fall  of  1729,  became  at  once  the  recog- 
nized leader.  They  fell  into  the  habit  of  meeting  regu- 
larly, most  often  in  his  room  in  Lincoln  College.  At 
first  their  meetings  were  on  Sunday  evenings  only, 
then  two  evenings  in  the  week,  and  later  every  even- 
ing. Their  association  was  not  exclusively  for  reli- 
gious purposes,  for  on  week-day  evenings  they  read 
the  classics  as  well  as  the  Greek  Testament.  But 
their  religious  sympathies  were  the  real  bond  of  fellow- 
ship. They  discussed  questions  of  duty,  laid  down  a 
definite  scheme  of  self-examination,  assigning  to  every 
evening  some  special  duty  or  virtue  for  discussion. 
There  were  at  first  but  four  of  them,  the  two  Wesleys, 
Morgan,  and  Robert  Kirkham  of  Merton  College,  an 
old  friend  of  Wesley's  undergraduate  days;    but  the 

^  I  cannot  find  positive  evidence  as  to  this.  Certainly  Morgan  was 
the  closest  friend  of  Charles  Wesley  in  the  following  autumn.  The 
"  young  man  "  cannot  have  been  Kirkham,  and  there  is  no  mention  of 
any  other  member  of  the  society  at  that  time. 


28  JOHN   WESLEY 

circle  soon  widened.  Their  number  varied  from 
time  to  time,  once  rising  as  high  as  twenty-nine;  but 
when  Wesley  left  Oxford  in  1735  there  were  fourteen. 
The  members  afterwards  to  become  best  known  were 
James  Hervey,  author  of  the  most  popular  book  of 
the  mid-eighteenth  century,  the  "Meditations  among 
the  Tombs,"  and  the  most  eloquent  of  all  preachers, 
George  Whitefield;  but  one  or  two  others  probably 
exerted  more  influence  upon  Wesley  at  the  time,  espe- 
cially John  Clayton  and  Robert  Morgan.  It  was  Clay- 
ton from  whom  Wesley  derived  many  of  the  High 
Church  notions  he  entertained  at  that  time;  it  was 
Morgan  who  introduced  him  to  the  work  of  practical 
benevolence. 

One  day  in  August,  1730,  Morgan  visited  a  con- 
demned murderer  lying  in  the  Castle,  or  jail  of  Oxford, 
and  at  the  same  time  chanced  to  speak  with  some  of 
the  prisoners  confined  there  for  debt.  He  saw  at  once 
that  here  was  an  opportunity  for  doing  good  that  no 
one  seemed  to  improve.  At  his  urgent  invitation  John 
and  Charles  Wesley  joined  him  in  visits  to  the  Castle, 
and  soon  planned  to  see  the  prisoners  there  regularly 
once  or  twice  a  week.  Morgan  next  determined  to 
visit  the  sick  poor  of  the  city,  and  urged  the  Wesleys 
to  join  him  in  this  good  office  also.  John  Wesley  seems 
to  have  had  at  first  a  fear  that  in  these  works  of  active 
benevolence  he  might  be  violating  some  proprieties  or 
invading  the  province  of  other  men,  and  he  wrote  to 
his  father  for  advice  in  the  matter.  The  reply  he  re- 
ceived left  him  in  no  doubt  as  to  his  father's  approval. 
"As  to  your  designs  and  employments,"  wrote  the 
heroic  old  rector  of  Epworth,  "what  can  I  say  less  of 
them  than  Valde  probo,  and  that  I  have  the  highest 


OXFORD   AND    GEORGIA  29 

reason  to  bless  God  he  has  given  me  two  sons  together 
in  Oxford  to  whom  he  has  given  grace  and  courage 
to  turn  the  war  against  the  world  and  the  devil.  .  .  . 
Go  on  then  in  God's  name,  in  the  path  to  which  your 
Saviour  has  directed  you,  and  that  track  wherein  your 
father  has  gone  before  you !  For  when  I  was  an  un- 
dergraduate at  Oxford,  I  visited  those  in  the  Castle 
then,  and  I  reflect  on  it  with  great  satisfaction  to  this 
day."  Mr.  Morgan,  who  has  broken  the  ice  for  them, 
he  declares  he  must  adopt  as  his  son  in  Jesus  Christ, 
"  and  when  I  have  such  a  Ternion  to  prosecute  that  war 
wherein  I  am  now  miles  emeritus,  I  shall  not  be  ashamed 
when  they  speak  with  their  enemies  in  the  gate."  By 
his  father's  advice,  Wesley  applied  to  the  Chaplain  of 
the  prison  and  the  Bishop  of  the  diocese  for  approval 
of  the  benevolent  work  the  Club  had  begun,  and  re- 
ceived from  both  hearty  sanction  and  encouragement. 
Before  the  close  of  the  summer  of  1730,  the  young  men 
had  formed  a  plan  for  the  systematic  ministration  to 
the  prisoners  in  jail  and  the  sick  and  poor  of  the  city. 
They  collected  the  poor  children  of  the  outlying  vil- 
lages into  classes  and  taught  them  the  Catechism. 
They  deprived  themselves  of  all  but  the  barest  necessi- 
ties in  order  to  save  money  to  purchase  food  and  medi- 
cine for  the  destitute,  or  to  relieve  worthy  persons 
imprisoned  for  small  debts.  Wesley  began  then  his  life- 
long practice  of  giving  away  all  he  could  save.  One 
year  he  had  an  income  of  thirty  pounds;  he  lived  on 
twenty-eight  pounds  and  gave  away  the  two.  The 
next  year  he  had  an  income  of  sixty  pounds  and  gave 
away  thirty-two;  and  the  fourth  year,  still  living  on 
twenty-eight  pounds,  he  could  give  away  ninety-two. 
In  all  this  there  was  nothing  that  ought  to  have 


30  JOHN   WESLEY 

brought  upon  these  young  men  the  derision  of  their 
fellows.  They  did  not  obtrude  their  rules  of  life  upon 
others,  or  pose  as  better  than  their  neighbors.  At 
worst  they  could  be  accused  of  only  a  certain  exclusive- 
ness.  Yet  it  is  a  singular  testimony  to  the  temper  of 
the  age  that  their  piety  provoked  ridicule  and  their 
charity  provoked  suspicion.  Significantly,  their  min- 
istrations to  the  poor  and  the  sick  seem  to  have  excited 
more  active  disapproval  than  their  distinctively  religious 
observances.  Meetings  were  held  among  the  members 
of  the  University  to  protest  against  this  new  enthusi- 
asm. Attacks  upon  them  were  so  frequent  and  persist- 
ent that,  in  the  winter  of  1 730-1 731,  Wesley  drew  up 
a  list  of  queries  which  they  were  accustomed  to  propose 
to  their  critics.  The  nature  both  of  the  attack  and  the 
defence  may  be  gathered  from  some  of  the  most  repre- 
sentative of  these  queries :  — 

"Whether  we  may  not  try  to  do  good  to  our  acquaint- 
ances? Particularly  whether  we  may  not  try  to  con- 
vince them  of  the  necessity  of  being  Christians,  and  of 
the  consequent  necessity  of  being  scholars  ? 

"Whether  we  may  not  try  to  do  good  to  those  that 
are  hungry,  naked,  or  sick?  In  particular  whether,  if 
we  know  of  any  necessitous  family,  we  may  not  give 
them  a  little  food,  clothes,  or  physic,  as  they  want? 

"Whether  we  may  not  contribute  what  little  we  are 
able  toward  having  the  children  clothed  and  taught  to 
read? 

"Whether  we  may  not  try  to  do  good  to  those  that 
are  in  prison  ? 

"Whether  we  may  not  lend  small  sums  to  those  that 
are  of  any  trade  that  they  may  procure  themselves  tools 
and  materials  to  work  with  ? 


OXFORD   AND    GEORGIA  31 

"Whether  we  may  not  give  them,  if  they  can  read, 
a  Bible,  Common  Prayer  Book,  or  'Whole  Duty  of 
Man'? 

''Whether  we  may  not,  as  we  have  opportunity, 
explain  and  enforce  these  upon  them,  especially  with 
respect  to  public  and  private  prayer  and  the  blessed 
sacrament?!'  ^ 

It  is  readily  to  be  believed,  as  Wesley  says,  that  he 
could  never  find,  even  in  that  age  which  had  not  yet 
heard  of  prison  reform,  any  person  who  would  deliber- 
ately answer  these  queries  in  the  negative.  Some 
friend  had  sufficient  confidence  in  the  novel  form  of 
beneficence  the  young  men  were  attempting,  to  give 
them  small  sums  of  money  in  aid  of  their  work  for  the 
sick  and  the  poor.  But  there  seems  no  reason  to  think 
that  the  great  body  of  University  men  ever  regarded 
their  activities  as  anything  else  than  a  temporary  out- 
break of  unfortunate  enthusiasm. 

The  ways  of  this  little  group  of  Methodists  were 
doubtless  in  very  striking  contrast  with  those  of  other 
Oxford  men.  They  did  not,  indeed,  parade  their  be- 
nevolence; they  did  not  court  opposition;  they  could 
not  be  drawn  into  acrimonious  rejoinder.  But  it  was 
noticed  that  these  young  fellows  who  were  teaching  the 
felons  in  the  Castle,  carrying  help  to  the  slums  of 
Oxford,  and  catechising  the  children  in  the  outlying  vil- 
lages, themselves  were  living  a  life  of  cheerful  abstemi- 
ousness, and  of  punctilious  religious  observance.  They 
rose  at  five  in  the  morning.  They  fasted  twice  in  the 
week.  They  partook  of  the  Holy  Communion  every 
Sunday.  They  repeated  a  Collect  at  nine,  twelve,  and 
three   every  day,   and   were  understood   to  use  brief 

1  Introductory  Letter  to  the  Journal. 


32  JOHN   WESLEY 

silent  prayers  or  ejaculations  hourly.  Wesley  himself 
strove  with  anxious  solicitude  to  ascertain  the  doctrines 
and  usages  of  the  Primitive  Church.  His  belief  and 
practices  at  this  period  were  such  as  to-day  would  be 
called  marks  of  a  rather  advanced  High  Churchman- 
ship.  It  is  evident  from  his  letters  that  he  was  inclined 
to  look  with  favor  upon  the  celebration  of  the  Eucha- 
rist upon  the  sabbath  (i.e.  on  Sunday),  and  on  all 
saints'  days,  on  the  mixed  chalice,  the  confessional,  and 
prayers  for  the  dead.  With  his  brother  Charles  he 
paid  several  visits  to  William  Law,  whose  books  had 
so  influenced  him  some  years  before;  and  by  Law's 
advice  he  began  to  study  the  works  of  the  German 
mystics.  His  incessant  labors  and  his  rigid  discipline 
probably  injured  his  health;  during  the  summer  of 
1734  his  strength  was  much  reduced  and  he  suffered 
alarming  hemorrhages  of  the  lungs. 

It  was  greatly  significant  of  change  that,  in  the  com- 
placent, self-indulgent,  rationalizing,  cold-hearted  eigh- 
teenth century,  a  little  group  of  Oxford  men  should 
have  devised  a  new  scheme  of  systematic  philanthropy, 
and  should  have  set  them.selves  to  revive  the  spirit  and 
the  observances  of  the  Primitive  Church.  But  yet  it 
must  be  said  that  this  was  not  the  Methodism  that 
within  the  next  twoscore  years  w^as  to  spread  all  over 
England.  It  is  true  that,  as  Wesley  said  in  1765,  all 
the  essential  doctrines  of  his  later  teaching  were  con- 
tained in  a  notable  sermon  he  preached  before  the 
University  in  1733.  It  is  true,  moreover,  that  all  his 
life  long  he  had  a  fondness  for  many  churchly  usages 
which  he  w^ould  no  longer  insist  upon,  and  was  always 
inclined  to  accept  anything  that  could  be  proved  to 
have  the  sanction  of  the  Early  Church.     But  the  type 


OXFORD   AND    GEORGIA  33 

of  religious  life  he  was  cultivating  at  Oxford  was  not 
really  Evangelical.  It  was  rather  monastic.  It  was 
too  self-centred.  It  is  not  very  strange  that  the  little 
group  of  Oxford  Methodists  did  not  make  many  con- 
verts among  the  men  of  the  University.  They  were 
really  not  intent  upon  making  converts;  they  were  in- 
tent on  saving  their  own  souls.  Even  their  works  of 
benevolence  and  mercy  they  regarded,  perhaps  half 
unconsciously,  chiefly  as  means  of  grace  to  themselves. 
This  was  especially  true  of  Wesley.  He  practically 
separated  himself  from  the  life  of  the  University,  and 
shut  his  doors  against  the  companionship  of  the  great 
body  of  his  fellow-students.  "I  resolved,"  says  he, 
"to  have  only  such  acquaintances  as  could  help  me  on 
my  way  to  heaven."  It  took  John  Wesley  long  to 
learn  that  this  is  not  the  spirit  of  Christianity:  that 
Jesus  Christ  would  not  have  founded  a  Holy  Club. 
He  was  certainly  unjust  to  himself  when  he  said,  as  he 
was  used  to  say  a  few  years  later,  that  while  in  Oxford 
he  was  not  a  Christian  at  all;  but  he  had  yet  to  learn 
the  full  meaning  of  the  truth  that  whosoever  will  save 
his  life  shall  lose  it.  The  Oxford  Methodist,  self-deny- 
ing, devout,  scrupulously  observant  of  every  outward 
religious  requirement,  certainly  was  a  Christian,  and  of 
a  noble  sort ;  but  he  was  not  yet  the  preacher  and  re- 
former who  could  renew  the  religious  life  of  a  nation. 

We  are  not  to  think  of  Wesley,  however,  in  these 
years  as  a  rigid  recluse.  There  was  no  sour  austerity 
in  his  nature.  He  was  always  keenly  alive  to  the  at- 
tractions of  good  society,  and  occasional  references  in 
the  letters  of  his  friends  attest  the  interest  of  his  con- 
versation and  the  charm  of  his  manners.  There  are 
indications  enough,  too,  that  he  was  by  no  means  proof 


34  JOHN   WESLEY 

against  youthful  sentiment.  That  susceptibility  which 
was  to  be  so  marked  in  his  later  life  had  already  shown 
itself.  In  the  first  year  of  his  Lincoln  Fellowship  he 
formed  an  acquaintance  with  a  Miss  Betty  Kirkham, 
for  whom  he  soon  came  to  feel  something  warmer  than 
friendship.  Miss  Kirkham  was  the  sister  of  his  college 
friend,  Robert  Kirkham,  and  the  daughter  of  a  clergy- 
man in  Staunton,  Northamptonshire.  A  letter  from 
Robert  Kirkham  as  early  as  February,  1727,  makes  it 
certain  that  Wesley  was  then  on  terms  of  intimacy  with 
the  family,  and  that  any  regard  he  may  have  had  for 
Miss  Betty  was  returned  by  the  young  lady  herself, 
and  warmly  approved  by  her  brother.  "Often  have 
you  been  in  the  thought  of  M.B.,"  (Miss  Betty,)  wrote 
young  Kirkham,  ''which  I  have  curiously  observed  by 
her  inward  smiles  and  sighs,  and  by  her  abrupt  expres- 
sions concerning  you.  Shall  this  suffice  ?  I  caught  her 
this  morning  in  a  humble  and  devout  position  on  her 
knees.  ...  I  must  conclude,  and  subscribe  myself 
your  most  affectionate  friend,  and  brother,  I  wish  I 
might  write,  Robert  Kirkham." 

The  acquaintance  was  evidently  well  known  to  the 
family  at  Ep worth,  for  in  a  letter  of  a  week  later,  Wes- 
ley's sister  Martha,  upbraiding  him  for  delay  in  writing 
home,  adds  "When  I  knew  that  you  had  just  returned 
from  Worcestershire  where  I  suppose  you  saw  your 
Varanese,  I  then  ceased  to  wonder  at  your  silence,  for 
the  sight  of  a  woman,  'so  known,  so  loved,'  might  well 
make  you  forget  me." 

Wesley  kept  up  a  correspondence  with  Miss  Kirkham 
for  some  four  years,  till  in  1731  the  acquaintance  seems  to 
have  been  broken  off.  Nobody  now  knows  why.  But 
conjecture  is  not  difficult.     Wesley  may  have  hesitated  at 


OXFORD   AND    GEORGIA  35 

marriage,  when  to  marry  meant  to  surrender  his  Fel- 
lowship and  give  up  his  Oxford  work  and  residence; 
while  Miss  Betty,  on  her  part,  may  naturally  have  been 
piqued  at  his  hesitation,  and  tired  of  waiting  for  a  mar- 
riage that  seemed  likely  to  be  so  remote.  At  all  events, 
from  a  condoling  phrase  in  a  letter  to  Wesley  from  his 
sister  Emily,  it  seems  to  have  been  Miss  Betty  who 
decided  the  matter.  Indeed,  some  of  the  family  cor- 
respondence would  indicate  that  even  before  the  close 
of  her  acquaintance  with  Wesley  she  had  married  a 
Mr.  Wilson;  she  died  in  1732. 

The  Kirkhams  were  a  clever  family  with  an  ambition 
for  intellectual  society.  Of  their  friends,  at  the  time  of 
Wesley's  acquaintance,  the  most  noteworthy  was  Mrs. 
Pendarves,  afterwards  Mrs.  Delaney.  This  brilliant 
woman,  "the  highest-bred  woman  in  the  world,"  as 
Burke  said  of  her  in  later  years,  a  niece  of  Lord  Lans- 
downe,  was  then  at  the  beginning  of  a  social  career  in 
which  she  formed  the  acquaintance  of  almost  every 
great  man  of  the  century  from  Jonathan  Swift  to  Samuel 
Johnson.  Mr.  Pendarves,  to  whom  she  had  been  mar- 
ried when  she  was  a  handsome  girl  of  eighteen  and  he 
was  a  gouty,  jealous  old  sloven  of  sixty,  had  died  some 
four  years  earlier,  and  she  was  now  an  engaging  young 
widow  of  twenty-nine,  living  in  London  but  spending 
her  summers  mostly  with  her  parents  in  Gloucestershire. 
When  a  young  girl  she  had  formed  a  friendship  with 
Sally  Kirkham  —  afterwards  the  Mrs.  Chapone  who 
carried  on  a  long  literary  correspondence  with  the  nov- 
elist Richardson,  and  mother-in-law  of  that  later  Mrs. 
Chapone  who  wrote  the  once  famous  "Letters  on  the 
Improvement  of  the  Mind"  —  and  this  friendship  she 
was  now  renewing.     It  was  doubtless  in  the  Kirkham 


36  JOHN   WESLEY 

family,  and  sometime  before  1731,  that  Wesley  first 
met  her.  A  long  correspondence  followed,  in  which, 
after  the  stilted  fashion  of  the  day,  the  lady  signs  her- 
self "Aspasia,"  Wesley  is  ^' Cyrus,"  and  Betty  Kirk- 
ham  is  "Varanese."  The  letters,  which  have  never 
been  printed  in  full,  are  mostly  concerned  with  reli- 
gious matters,  but  are  written  in  a  style  of  elaborate 
courtesy  which  reminds  us  that  we  are  in  an  age  of 
formal  sentiment.  The  occasion  of  writing,  in  the  first 
place,  seems  to  have  been  the  mutual  regard  of  both 
writers  for  Varanese.  The  correspondence,  however, 
was  certainly  kept  up  some  time  after  Miss  Betty  had 
denied  to  Wesley  any  hope  of  marriage;  and  in  the 
opinion  of  some  of  his  later  biographers,  Wesley  was 
not  unwilling  that  Aspasia  should  accept  the  affections 
Varanese  had  resigned.  When  Mrs.  Pendarves  left 
England  in  the  autumn  of  1732  for  a  long  visit  to  friends 
in  Ireland,  she  allowed  the  correspondence  to  lapse; 
partly,  as  she  said,  from  negligence,  and  perhaps  also 
partly  because  she  deemed  the  friendship  of  her  cor- 
respondent growing  rather  strained.  Some  three  years 
later,  she  invited  Wesley  to  write  her  again;  but  he 
declined  to  renew  an  intimacy  he  wisely  judged  of  little 
profit  to  either  party.  It  is  difficult  —  and  not  very 
important  —  to  determine  the  nature  of  his  regard  for 
Mrs.  Pendarves  during  these  years  1730  and  1731 ;  there 
was  always  a  marked  vein  of  sentiment  in  his  nature. 
But  the  episode,  however  explained,  obviously  proves 
that  the  earnestness  of  his  life  had  not  blinded  him  to 
the  charms  of  society,  especially  when  illustrated  in  an 
accomplished  woman.  The  labored  artificiality  of 
some  of  his  letters  to  Aspasia  is  proof  not  so  much  of 
insincerity  as  of  a  natural  desire  in  this  young  ascetic 


OXFORD   AND    GEORGIA  37 

to  show  himself  not  inapt  in  the  phrase  of  courtly  senti- 
ment. 

These  years  which  Wesley  spent  in  residence  as 
Fellow  of  Lincoln  were  probably  in  many  respects  the 
happiest  of  his  life.  Never  again  were  his  surroundings 
so  congenial.  Few  of  all  the  many  lovers  of  Oxford 
have  ever  loved  her  more  than  he.  The  stately  beauty 
of  the  mediaeval  town  grew  into  his  heart.  When  in 
his  eightieth  year,  after  describing  with  enthusiasm 
some  Dutch  towns  he  had  lately  visited,  he  adds, 
''After  all,  they  have  nothing  to  compare  with  St.  John's 
or  Trinity  Gardens,  much  less  with  Magdalen  river  walk 
or  Christ  Church  Meadows."  By  natural  preference 
always  a  scholar  and  a  recluse,  he  found  here  in  Ox- 
ford the  reverend  traditions  of  piety  and  learning,  the 
grave  and  cloistered  life,  what  a  later  Oxford  lover  has 
called  "the  last  enchantments  of  the  middle  age,"  that 
to  a  temper  like  Wesley's  are  so  fascinating.  His  life 
as  Fellow  was  ideal.  He  had  the  companionship  of  a 
few  friends  congenial  in  tastes  and  in  religious  purpose, 
and  his  natural  sense  of  leadership  was  perhaps  uncon- 
sciously flattered  by  their  recognition  of  him  as  guide 
and  adviser.  The  criticisms  upon  him  and  his  friends 
seemed  to  him  only  that  opposition  which  all  who 
would  live  godly  in  the  present  evil  world  must  expect 
to  encounter,  and  a  salutary  stimulus  to  fidehty. 
His  life  was  divided  between  quiet  study  by  himself 
and  active  ministrations  to  others,  as  he  would  have 
liked  to  have  it  divided  all  his  days.  Forty  years  after, 
when  opposition  to  his  work  had  mostly  ceased  and  his 
preachers  were  settled  all  over  the  island,  he  wrote  to 
his  brother  Charles,  "I  often  cry  out,  Vit(B  me  redde 
-priori;  let  me  be  again  an  Oxford  Methodist." 


38  JOHN   WESLEY 

His  love  for  Oxford  and  for  his  life  there  was  soon 
to  be  proved  in  a  striking  manner.  In  i'j'^4  the  aged 
rector  of  Epworth,  feeling  that  he  had  not  long  to  live, 
vi^rote  to  John  entreating  him  to  accept  the  living  of 
Epworth  and  continue  the  good  work  of  his  father 
there.  If  John  should  not  accept  it,  the  living  seemed 
likely  to  fall  to  a  fox-hunting  parson  of  the  worst  vari- 
ety, and  "the  prospect  of  that  mighty  Nimrod's  coming 
hither,"  wrote  his  father,  "shocks  my  soul,  and  is  in  a 
fair  way  to  bring  down  my  gray  hairs  in  sorrow  to  the 
grave."  The  other  members  of  the  Epworth  house- 
hold joined  in  the  request,  and  his  brother  Samuel 
wrote  him  warmly  urging  that  he  accede  to  their  wishes. 
But  this  John  Wesley  could  not  bring  himself  to  do. 
He  wrote  a  portentously  long  letter  to  his  father,  in 
which,  after  his  methodical  fashion,  he  draws  out 
laboriously  twenty-six  different  reasons  why  he  should 
stay  where  he  was.  Twenty-five  of  them  were  essen- 
tially selfish  reasons.  In  Oxford,  he  says,  he  can  have 
congenial  religious  companions  and  only  those ;  he  can 
have  retirement,  he  is  without  annoyance  from  worldly 
persons  and  lukewarm  Christians;  he  is  absolutely 
free  from  the  "cares  of  the  world"  ;  he  has  the  constant 
enjoyment  of  the  offices  of  the  church  —  in  a  word,  he 
*'can  be  holier  in  Oxford  than  anywhere  else."  More- 
over, in  the  world  outside  he  feels  that  he  could  not  for 
a  moment  withstand  the  temptations  to  irregularity, 
intemperance,  and  self-indulgence.  It  is  such  a  re- 
sponse as  a  monk  of  the  twelfth  century  might  have 
made  to  solicitations  from  without  the  cloister.  And 
the  old  father,  though  he  professed  himself  a  little  puz- 
zled by  his  son's  sophisms,  answered  them  all  with  his 
usual  blunt  common-sense :  — 


OXFORD    AND    GEORGIA  39 

"Your  state  of  the  question  and  only  argument  is: 
The  question  is  not  whether  I  could  do  more  good  to 
others,  there  or  here;  but  whether  I  could  do  more 
good  to  myself;  seeing  wherever  I  can  be  most  holy 
myself,  there  I  can  most  promote  holiness  in  others. 
But  I  can  improve  myself  more  at  Oxford  than  at  any 
other  place. 

''To  this  I  answer,  first,  it  is  not  dear  self,  but  the 
glory  of  God,  and  the  different  degrees  of  promoting 
it,  which  should  be  our  main  consideration  and  direc- 
tion in  the  choice  of  any  course  of  life. 

"  Second.  Supposing  you  could  be  more  holy  your- 
self at  Oxford,  how  does  it  follow  that  you  could  more 
promote  holiness  in  others  there  than  elsewhere  ?  Have 
you  found  many  instances  of  it,  after  so  many  years' 
hard  pain  and  labor? 

"Third.  I  cannot  allow  austerity,  or  fasting,  consid- 
ered by  themselves,  to  be  proper  acts  of  holiness,  nor 
am  I  for  a  solitary  life.  God  made  us  for  a  social  life ; 
we  are  not  to  bury  our  talent;  we  are  to  let  our  light 
shine  before  men,  and  that  not  merely  through  the 
chinks  of  a  bushel  for  fear  the  wind  should  blow  it  out."  ^ 

Wesley  had  no  satisfactory  answer  to  this;  but  he 
still  declined  to  give  up  his  work  at  Oxford.  It  was 
only  next  year,  a  few  weeks  before  his  father's  death, 
that  he  seems  to  have  given  a  reluctant  consent;  but 
it  was  then  too  late.  His  father  died  in  April  of  1735, 
and  the  living  went  to  the  "Mighty  Nimrod,"  who 
seems  never  to  have  resided  in  the  parish.  It  was 
doubtless  fortunate,  say  rather  providential,  that  Wes- 
ley did  not  exchange  Oxford  for  Epworth;    but  one 

^  "  Letters  by  the  Rev.  John  Wesley  and  his  Friends."  By  Joseph 
Priestley,  Birmingham,  1791. 


40  JOHN   WESLEY 

cannot  admit  that  his  reasons  for  refusing  to  do  so 
were  of  a  very  noble  sort.  Next  year,  on  the  very  same 
reasons,  he  decided  to  leave  Oxford  for  a  very  different 
field,  in  which  his  success  was  hardly  greater  than  he 
might  have  expected  in  Epworth. 

In  the  summer  of  1735,  General  James  Oglethorpe 
was  in  London  soliciting  aid  for  his  new  colony  of 
Georgia.  Oglethorpe,  who  was  a  genuine  philanthro- 
pist, as  well  as  a  gentleman  and  something  of  a  states- 
man, had  been  scandalized  by  the  horrid  condition  of 
English  prisons,  and  especially  by  the  hardships  attend- 
ing and  following  imprisonment  for  debt.  He  conceived 
the  idea  of  a  colony  in  the  interest  primarily  of  those 
unfortunate  men  who  had  been  confined  in  debtors' 
jails,  a  colony  which  should  afford  such  persons  an 
opportunity  for  independence  and  a  new  trial  of  the 
fortunes  of  life.  He  proposed  also  that  his  colony 
should  be  an  asylum  for  persecuted  Protestants  from 
any  part  of  Europe,  and  should  be  a  centre  of  mis- 
sionary effort  among  the  Indians.  His  scheme  met 
with  favor  from  the  new  Society  for  the  Propagation  of 
the  Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts,  —  the  first  English  mis- 
sionary Society,  —  and  he  succeeded  in  securing  a 
handsome  endowment  for  his  colony  and  a  grant  of 
land  from  the  Crown.  He  had  planted  the  colony  suc- 
cessfully in  1732,  and  now  returned  to  England  to  in- 
vite other  colonists  and  further  aid.  He  brought  with 
him  a  friendly  Indian  Chief  and  his  train,  who  were 
the  sensation  of  London  that  summer,  and  stimulated 
in  the  imagination  of  an  overartificial  society  those 
vague  notions  of  the  noble  primitive  life  which  Rous- 
seau was  soon  to  formulate  and  spread  over  Europe. 


OXFORD    AND    GEORGIA  41 

Oglethorpe  wished  to  find  some  young  EngUshman  in 
orders  who  would  serve  at  once  as  Chaplain  to  the 
English  community  at  Savannah  and  missionary  to  the 
Indians.  Dr.  Burton  of  Corpus  Christi  College,  who 
was  well  acquainted  with  the  Oxford  Methodists,  rec- 
ommended John  Wesley,  and  on  one  of  Wesley's 
visits  to  London  introduced  him  to  Oglethorpe.  With 
the  Wesley  family  Oglethorpe  was  already  acquainted. 
The  rector  of  Epworth,  who  had  always  dreams  of  far 
missionary  effort,  had  been  heartily  interested  in  the 
Georgia  Colony,  and  not  long  before  his  death  wrote 
Oglethorpe  that  if  he  were  but  ten  years  younger,  he 
would  assuredly  go  himself;  and  John's  elder  brother 
Samuel  had  given  a  set  of  Communion  plate  to  the 
church  in  Savannah.  It  was  natural,  therefore,  that 
Oglethorpe  should  consider  favorably  the  nomination 
of  Wesley,  and  urge  him  to  accept  this  position.  Wes- 
ley at  first  declined,  partly  because  he  was  still  loth  to 
leave  Oxford,  and  partly  because  he  felt  he  ought  not 
to  put  the  Atlantic  between  himself  and  his  widowed 
mother.  But  as  the  invitation  was  urgent,  he  consulted 
with  his  brother  Samuel,  with  Law,  whom  he  still  re- 
garded as  his  spiritual  adviser,  with  the  closest  of  his 
Oxford  Methodist  friends,  Clayton,  and  then  went 
down  to  Epworth  to  lay  the  case  before  his  mother. 
She  had  no  hesitation;  "If  I  had  twenty  sons,"  said 
the  brave  old  lady,  "I  should  rejoice  that  they  were  all 
so  employed,  though  I  never  saw  them  more."  So 
assured,  Wesley  decided  to  go.  He  was  to  be  mission- 
ary to  the  Indians  from  the  Society  for  the  Propaga- 
tion of  the  Gospel,  with  a  salary  of  fifty  pounds.  He 
persuaded  Benjamin  Ingham,  one  of  the  Oxford  group, 
to  accompany  him,  and  Charles  Delamotte,  another  of 


42  JOHN   WESLEY 

Wesley's  friends,  insisted,  against  the  wishes  of  his 
parents,  that  he  be  allowed  to  join  the  party.  And  at 
the  last  moment,  Charles  Wesley,  who  had  just  taken 
orders,  decided  to  go  too,  as  Secretary  of  Oglethorpe. 
It  is  significant  to  notice  that  Wesley's  reasons  for  going 
to  Georgia  were  essentially  the  same  as  the  reasons  he 
had  alleged  a  year  before  for  staying  in  Oxford .  In  a  letter 
written  four  days  before  he  sailed, he  says  explicitly,  "My 
chief  motive  is  the  hope  of  saving  my  own  soul.  .  .  . 
I  cannot  hope  to  attain  the  same  degree  of  holiness  here 
which  I  may  there."  In  the  wilds  of  America,  removed 
from  the  pomp  and  show  of  the  world,  with  little  oppor- 
tunity for  foolish  and  hurtful  desires,  he  will  be  free, 
he  thinks,  from  most  of  the  temptations  that  daily  beset 
him  in  Oxford.  Very  curious  it  is  to  see  this  combi- 
nation of  religious  asceticism  with  that  eighteenth- 
century  tendency  to  idealize  the  primitive  life.  As  for 
the  Indians,  Wesley  shared  to  the  full  the  fictitious  no- 
tion of  the  noble  savage  then  so  current.  He  hoped 
to  learn  the  purity  of  the  Christian  faith  by  observing 
its  effects  upon  the  untutored  mind  of  the  red  man, 
much  as  our  students  of  social  science  take  up  resi- 
dence in  the  slums  not  so  much  from  benevolent  as 
from  scientific  motives.  He  says  in  the  letter  just 
quoted,  "They  have  no  comments  to  construe  away 
the  text  [of  the  gospel];  no  vain  philosophy  to  cor- 
rupt it ;  no  luxurious,  sensual,  covetous,  ambitious  ex- 
pounders to  soften  its  unpleasing  truths.  They  have 
no  party,  no  interest  to  serve,  and  are  therefore  fit 
to  receive  the  Gospel  in  its  simplicity.  They  are  as 
little  children,  humble,  willing  to  learn,  and  eager  to  do, 
the  Will  of  God."  Wesley  saw  reason  to  change  his 
estimate  of  Indian  character  in  the  next  two  years. 


OXFORD   AND    GEORGIA  43 

It  was  on  the  voyage  to  Georgia  that  Wesley  first 
met  a  type  of  religious  experience  that  was  to  have 
great  influence  upon  his  own.  On  the  ship  was  a  com- 
pany of  twenty-six  Moravians  going  out  with  their 
bishop,  David  Nitschmann,  to  join  a  number  of  their 
own  faith  who  had  already  settled  in  Georgia.  Wes- 
ley, who  had  laid  down  for  himself  and  his  three  com- 
panions a  rigid  routine  of  daily  study  and  devotion, 
found  himself  strongly  attracted  by  the  demeanor  of 
these  simple  German  Christians.  They  were  ready  to 
perform  the  most  humble  offices  without  pay  or  even 
thanks;  they  were  always  cheerful,  and  no  neglect 
could  rouse  them  to  protest,  no  insult  provoke  them  to 
anger.  He  joined  them  in  their  public  devotions,  and 
set  himself  to  learn  German  that  he  might  converse 
with  them  more  freely.  As  the  slow  weeks  of  the  three 
months'  voyage  wore  on,  Wesley  saw  in  them  a  deep 
and  quiet  faith,  an  undisturbed  serenity  of  spirit  such 
as  he  coveted  but  could  not  attain.  When,  at  the  close 
of  a  day's  storm,  an  immense  wave  broke  over  the  ship 
just  as  they  were  at  their  evening  song,  and  the  English 
passengers  were  screaming  with  terror  at  the  prospect 
of  immediate  shipwreck,  the  Moravians  continued  their 
singing  as  calmly  as  if  they  had  been  in  the  chapel  at 
Herrnhut.  "Were  you  not  afraid?"  asked  Wesley  of 
one  of  them  next  day.  "I  thank  God,  no,"  was  the 
reply.  "But  were  not  your  women  and  children 
afraid  ?"  "No,"  he  answered  mildly,  "our  women  and 
children  are  not  afraid  to  die."  Immediately  on  land- 
ing, Wesley  sought  out  the  Moravian  pastor  of  Savan- 
nah, Spangenberg,  to  ask  advice  as  to  the  work  he  was 
to  undertake.  To  his  surprise,  Spangenberg  said :  "  My 
brother,  I  must  first  ask  you  one  or  two  questions. 


44  JOHN   WESLEY 

Have  you  the  witness  within  yourself  ?  Does  the  Spirit 
of  God  bear  witness  with  your  spirit  that  you  are  a 
child  of  God?"  and  added,  as  Wesley  hesitated,  "Do 
you  know  Jesus  Christ?"  Unaccustomed  to  being 
catechised  after  this  fashion,  Wesley  could  only  say,  "I 
know  he  is  the  Saviour  of  the  world."  ''Friend,"  re- 
plied Spangenberg,  "but  do  you  know  he  has  saved 
you?"  and  when  Wesley  replied,  "I  hope  he  died  to 
save  me,"  pushed  the  further  question,  "Do  you  know, 
yourself?"  "I  do,"  answered  Wesley;  but  he  adds,  in 
his  account  of  the  interview,  "I  fear  they  were  vain 
words."  Wesley  and  Delamotte,  while  a  house  was 
being  prepared  for  them,  took  lodging  for  a  few  days 
with  the  Moravians,  and  were  convinced  that  their  life 
was  in  manner  and  in  spirit  closely  similar  to  that  of 
the  first  Christians.  At  the  election  and  consecration 
of  a  new  bishop,  the  ceremony  w^as  so  simple  and  at  the 
same  time  so  solemn,  in  such  striking  contrast  with  the 
pomp  of  the  English  ceremonial,  that  Wesley  was  ready 
to  "forget  the  1700  years  between  and  imagine  myself  in 
one  of  those  assemblies  where  form  and  state  were  not, 
but  Paul  the  tent-maker  or  Peter  the  fisherman  presided ; 
yet  with  the  demonstration  of  the  Spirit  and  of  power." 
The  example  and  teaching  of  the  Moravians  unques- 
tionably convinced  Wesley  of  the  possibility  of  an  as- 
sured personal  religious  experience  to  which  he  was  as 
yet  a  stranger.  It  deepened  his  dissatisfaction  with 
himself,  and  increased  the  austerity  of  his  life.  But 
the  simplicity  of  the  Moravian  forms  did  not  lead  him 
to  lay  any  less  emphasis  upon  churchly  observance. 
Rather  the  contrary.  During  his  stay  in  Georgia  Wes- 
ley was  an  extreme  High  Churchman,  with  a  longing 
after  Moravian  quietism  and  assurance. 


OXFORD   AND    GEORGIA  45 

In  the  first  object  of  his  visit  he  had  little  success; 
his  plans  for  work  among  the  Indians  came  to  nothing. 
Oglethorpe,  who  had  probably  no  very  sentimental 
view  of  the  Indian  character,  told  him  it  would  be 
hardly  safe  to  venture  much  outside  the  settlements, 
and  insisted  that  his  first  duty  was  to  the  English  colo- 
nists. And  Wesley  himself  must  have  been  disap- 
pointed in  his  notion  that  the  Indians  were  waiting 
^'like  little  children  to  receive  and  obey  the  Gospel." 
After  two  years'  acquaintance,  he  gives  them  a  quite 
different  character.  "They  are  all,"  he  writes  in  his 
Journal,  "except  perhaps  the  Choctaws,  gluttons, 
thieves,  dissemblers,  liars.  They  are  implacable,  mur- 
derers of  fathers,  murderers  of  mothers,  murderers  of 
their  own  children."  The  chiefs  whom  he  interviewed 
on  his  arrival  told  him  in  plain  terms  that  at  present 
they  had  too  much  fighting  on  their  hands  to  attend  to 
anything  else;  if  ever  they  finished  that  successfully, 
they  might  perhaps  listen  to  him.  Of  course  they  never 
did  finish  it.  Just  before  his  return  to  England,  Wesley 
writes  with  delightful  naivete,  that  he  has  not  taught 
the  Indians  because  he  has  "not  found  or  heard  of  any 
Indian  on  the  Continent  of  America  who  had  the  least 
desire  of  being  instructed."  And  yet  this  is  the  man 
who,  in  the  next  ten  years,  is  to  deliver  his  message 
fearlessly  to  thousands  who  received  it  with  howls  of 
anger  or  derision. 

Nor  were  the  results  of  his  labor  as  pastor  to  the  colo- 
nists altogether  satisfactory.  He  gave  himself  to  that 
work,  when  he  found  he  could  do  nothing  for  the  Ind- 
ians, with  characteristic  zeal.  His  life  was  never  more 
austere,  his  observance  of  every  churchly  duty  never 
more  punctilious.     He  administered  the  Communion 


46  JOHN   WESLEY 

every  Sunday  and  holy  day.  He  held  services  on  Sun- 
day at  five,  and  eleven,  and  three,  besides  which  he  read 
prayers  in  Italian  at  nine,  in  French  at  one,  and  cate- 
chised the  children  at  two.  He  learned  Spanish  that 
he  might  preach  to  some  Spanish  Jews  he  found  in  his 
parish.  He  induced  a  number  of  serious  persons  to 
form  a  little  society  which  should  meet  once  or  twice  a 
week  for  religious  conversation,  and  selected  a  still 
smaller  number  for  a  more  intimate  union  like  that  of 
the  Oxford  Methodists.  He  gathered  the  children  into 
a  school  which  Delamotte  taught,  and  when  some  of 
the  more  well-to-do  children  noticed  the  mean  clothing 
of  their  fellows,  Wesley  took  Delamotte' s  place  as 
teacher  for  a  week  and  went  to  the  school  barefoot 
every  day  to  shame  their  pride.  He  visited  all  his  pa- 
rishioners in  person,  usually  choosing  the  heated  hour 
of  noon  for  that  duty  because  he  was  then  most  sure  to 
find  them  in  their  houses.  He  fasted  thrice  a  week, 
and  lived  habitually  on  bread  and  fruit.  He  was  ap- 
parently insensible  to  hardship  and  bore  tropical  heat 
and  tropical  rain  without  complaint. 

Such  self-denying  labors  could  not  fail  of  effect.  It 
is  exaggeration  to  say  that  Wesley's  mission  in  Georgia 
was  a  failure.  He  made  sincere  friends  and  did  much 
good.  When  Whitefield  visited  the  colony  in  1738,  he 
wrote :  "Mr.  Wesley's  name  is  very  precious  among  the 
people  here.  He  has  laid  a  foundation  that  neither 
men  nor  angels  will  ever  be  able  to  shake."  But 
yet  it  is  clear  that,  while  Wesley  commanded  the 
respect  of  many  and  the  love  of  some,  he  did  not  gain 
any  real  following.  He  could  not  awaken  any  deep  or 
general  religious  interest  among  the  colonists.  He  gave 
no  promise  of  great  religious  leadership;    the  marvel- 


OXFORD   AND    GEORGIA  47 

lous  results  that  were  to  follow  his  preaching,  before  the 
middle  of  the  century,  all  over  England,  could  never 
have  been  predicted  from  his  work  in  Georgia.  He 
was  personally  unpopular,  and  that  not  altogether 
among  the  baser  sort.  The  dislike  for  him  was  espe- 
cially marked  in  the  little  settlement  of  Frederica,  some 
hundred  miles  south  of  Savannah.  Charles  Wesley 
had  gone  there  shortly  after  his  arrival  in  Georgia ;  but, 
vexed  by  the  quarrelsome  temper  of  the  people  and  dis- 
couraged by  an  unfortunate  difference  with  Oglethorpe, 
he  had  thrown  up  his  position  and  sailed  back  to  Eng- 
land after  only  six  months'  stay  in  the  Colony.  Wesley 
visited  Frederica  two  or  three  times,  after  the  departure 
of  Charles,  with  the  hope  to  continue  the  work  his 
brother  had  tried  to  start.  But  he  met  with  nothing 
but  opposition,  and  excited  so  much  enmity  that  his 
life  was  more  than  once  threatened.  At  length  he,  too, 
gave  up  Frederica  in  utter  despair  of  doing  any  good 
there,  and  content,  he  says,  never  to  see  it  more.  In 
Savannah,  while  there  was  no  such  violent  personal 
antagonism  as  in  Frederica,  his  influence  was  not  in- 
creasing during  the  later  months  of  his  stay. 

For  this  comparative  failure,  it  is  not  difficult  to  per- 
ceive some  reasons.  Wesley's  parishioners  were  a  diffi- 
cult folk.  Recruited  largely  from  the  more  shiftless 
and  disorderly  classes  in  England,  they  were  restive 
under  any  attempted  discipline,  and  did  not  always 
accept  with  a  good  grace  the  authoritative  rebukes  of 
their  young  pastor.  Moreover,  to  such  a  community 
the  priestly  and  ascetic  type  of  religion  which  Wesley 
enjoined  and  practised  must  have  been  specially  repug- 
nant. Too  careless  of  all  proprieties,  struggling  with 
hard  conditions  in  a  raw,  half-savage  country,   they 


48  JOHN   WESLEY 

naturally  viewed  with  impatience  the  attempt  to  impose 
any  elaborate  ceremonial  upon  the  crude  and  meagre 
circumstance  of  their  life.  They  were  repelled  by 
Wesley's  austerities,  and  irritated  by  his  insistence  upon 
the  requirements  of  a  rigid  sacerdotalism.  They 
learned  with  surprise  and  indignation  that  this  Oxford 
priest  had  refused  to  baptize  an  infant  by  sprinkling 
rather  than  by  pouring;  had  refused  the  Lord's  Supper 
to  several  persons  because  they  had  not  given  previous 
formal  notice  of  their  intention  to  communicate;  that 
he  was  endeavoring  to  enforce  confession  and  penance, 
and  refusing  the  sacraments  and  burial  to  dissenters. 
''We  are  Protestants,"  said  one  of  his  hearers  in  Fred- 
erica,  "but  as  for  you,  we  cannot  tell  what  religion  you 
are  of.  We  never  heard  of  such  a  religion  before ;  we 
know  not  what  to  make  of  it."  And  perhaps  the  deep- 
est reason  for  Wesley's  lack  of  hold  upon  the  com- 
munity is  to  be  found  in  the  fact  of  his  own  spiritual 
restlessness  during  those  years  in  Georgia.  His  almost 
feverish  activity,  his  anxious  performance  of  all  out- 
ward duties,  his  extreme  personal  ascetism,  all  may  in- 
dicate that  the  religion  he  was  urging  upon  others  had 
not  yet  brought  entire  satisfaction  to  himself. 

His  decision  to  leave  the  Colony  was  precipitated  by 
a  petty  quarrel  which  can  bring  no  reproach  upon  his 
name,  but  which  certainly  exhibits  some  weaker  sides 
of  his  character.  Shortly  after  landing  in  Savannah,  at 
the  suggestion  of  Oglethorpe,  he  had  been  introduced 
to  a  Miss  Sophia  Hopkey,  niece  of  Mr.  Causton,  the 
Magistrate  of  the  Colony.  It  is  quite  clear  that  Miss 
Hopkey,  who  was  a  sprightly  and  intelligent  girl  of 
attractive  person  and  manners,  was  very  willing  to 
foster  the  acquaintance.     She  attended  Mr.  Wesley's 


OXFORD   AND    GEORGIA  49 

services  with  regularity;  she  chose  her  gowns  to  suit 
his  quiet  taste ;  and  she  took  the  proverbially  effective 
measure  of  caring  for  him  through  a  week's  illness. 
Thus  encouraged,  it  was  inevitable  that  one  of  Wesley's 
susceptible  temperament  should  find  his  friendship 
growing  into  intimacy;  it  is  certain  that  he  gave  Miss 
Hopkey  reason  to  expect  that  he  intended  marriage. 
At  this  point,  his  friend  Delamotte,  perhaps  displeased 
at  the  part  the  lady  took  in  her  own  wooing,  perhaps 
dreading  to  lose  the  first  place  in  Wesley's  regard, 
ventured  to  caution  his  friend  and  advise  him  to  take 
counsel  with  the  Moravian  Elders.  Wesley  weakly  as- 
sented ;  and  instead  of  deciding  the  important  question 
himself,  promised  to  lay  it  before  the  Moravians  and 
abide  by  their  decision.  The  decision  was  adverse; 
and  Wesley  replied,  "The  will  of  the  Lord  be  done." 
Miss  Hopkey  naturally  resented  this  interference  of 
Delamotte  and  the  Moravian  Elders.  Not  choosing  to 
learn  from  Mr.  Wesley  his  resolve  to  desert  her,  she 
promptly  accepted  the  addresses  of  another  suitor,  a 
Mr.  Williamson,  and,  after  an  engagement  of  five  days, 
married  him.  Here  the  matter  should  have  ended. 
Wesley  may  be  pardoned  a  little  personal  feeling  in  his 
estimate  of  Mr.  Williamson,  as  "not  remarkable  for 
handsomeness,  neither  for  greatness,  neither  for  wit,  or 
knowledge,  or  sense,  and  least  of  all  for  religion."  But 
he  should  not  have  made  the  mistake  of  visiting  eccle- 
siastical discipline  upon  Mrs.  Williamson,  when  he 
might  have  known  his  action  would  be  misinterpreted. 
Forgetting  that  the  lady  could  hardly  be  expected  to 
welcome  the  admonitions  of  a  priest  who  had  just 
proved  false  as  a  lover,  he  ventured  a  reproof  to  Mrs. 
Williamson  for  some  misconduct.     She  proved  impeni- 


50  JOHN   WESLEY 

tent,  and  he  felt  compelled  to  exclude  her  from  the 
Communion.  Her  husband  and  uncle,  indignant  at 
what  they  chose  to  consider  an  act  of  personal  spite, 
now  brought  suit  against  Wesley  for  defamation  of 
character.  They  really  had  no  case,  and  very  likely 
knew  they  had  not,  for  Wesley's  action  had  been  well 
within  his  rights  as  pastor ;  but  they  managed  to  draw 
out  the  legal  proceedings  over  four  months,  to  unite 
all  the  elements  opposed  to  Wesley,  and  to  create  end- 
less annoyance  and  scandal.  Wesley  felt  that  his  use- 
fulness in  Georgia  was  over,  and,  taking  the  advice  of 
his  friends,  decided  to  return  to  England.  He  sailed 
from  Charleston  on  the  22d  of  December,  1737,  and 
landed  at  Deal  on  the  first  day  of  the  next  February. 
Whitefield  had  sailed  the  day  before  for  a  brief  visit  of 
four  months  to  the  Colony  Wesley  had  just  left. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  YEAR   OF  TRANSITION 

1 738-1 739 

Wesley  returned  from  Georgia  in  a  mood  of  dis- 
couragement. The  tedious  six  weeks'  voyage  home 
was  a  period  of  profound  depression.  The  hopes  with 
which  he  had  gone  out  two  years  before  had  all  been 
disappointed.  His  mission  to  the  Indians  had  failed 
entirely.  His  influence  as  a  teacher  and  preacher 
among  the  colonists  had  declined.  His  austerities  had 
repelled  them;  his  fidelity  to  what  he  thought  his 
priestly  duty  had  been  accounted  arrogance  or  hypoc- 
risy. He  was  doubtless  conscious  of  some  errors  of  prac- 
tical judgment.  He  had  sometimes  unwisely  imposed 
his  opinions  upon  others ;  he  had  sometimes  weakly  in- 
trusted to  others  decisions  which  he  should  have  made 
himself.  He  had  sacrificed  to  a  mistaken  sense  of  duty 
a  very  genuine  affection,  and  then  had  found  his  action 
the  occasion  of  a  long  series  of  petty  persecutions  and 
scandals.  The  memory  of  his  stay  in  Georgia  could 
hardly  have  been  reassuring  for  future  work. 

But  the  keenest  cause  of  disappointment  Wesley 
found  in  his  own  spiritual  condition.  By  his  own  con- 
fession, two  years  and  a  half  before,  he  had  gone  to 
Georgia  to  "save  his  own  soul" ;  and  his  own  soul  was 
not  saved.     The  entries  in  the  Journal  during  the  last 

51 


52  JOHN   WESLEY 

days  of  the  voyage  give  a  clear  statement  of  the  nature 
of  the  poignant  dissatisfaction  with  himself.  Such 
passages  as  the  following  are  significant  as  giving  the 
clew  to  some  most  important  phases  of  his  experience 
during  the  next  six  months. 

"  Tuesday,  Jan.  24.  I  went  to  America  to  convert 
the  Indians;  but  O  who  shall  convert  me?  Who, 
what,  is  he  that  will  deliver  me  from  this  evil  heart  of 
unbelief?  I  have  a  fair  summer  religion.  I  can  talk 
well;  nay,  and  believe  myself  while  no  danger  is  near; 
but  let  death  look  me  in  the  face  and  my  spirit  is 
troubled.  ...  I  now  believe  the  Gospel  is  true.  I 
'show  my  faith  by  my  works,'  by  staking  my  all  upon 
it.  I  would  do  so  again  and  again  a  thousand  times, 
if  the  choice  were  still  to  make.  Whoever  sees  me  sees 
I  would  be  a  Christian.  But  in  a  storm  I  think,  '  What 
if  the  Gospel  be  not  true !'" 

Five  days  later  he  declares,  "I  who  went  to  Amer- 
ica to  convert  others  was  never  myself  converted," 
and  brands  himself  a  "child  of  wrath,"  and  ''heir  of 
hell."  "If  it  be  said  that  I  have  faith  (for  many 
such  things  I  have  heard  from  many  miserable  com- 
forters), I  answer,  so  have  the  devils, — a  sort  of 
faith;  but  still  they  are  strangers  to  the  covenant  of 
promise.  So  the  apostles  had  even  at  Cana  in  Galilee, 
when  Jesus  first  'manifested  forth  his  glory' ;  even  then 
they,  in  a  sort,  '  believed  in  him ' ;  but  they  had  not 
then  'the  faith  that  overcome th  the  world.'  The  faith 
I  want  is  'A  sure  trust  and  confidence  in  God,  that 
through  the  merits  of  Christ,  my  sins  are  forgiven,  and 
I  reconciled  to  the  favor  of  God.'  ...  I  want  that 
faith  which  none  can  have  without  knowing  that  he 
hath  it." 


THE   YEAR    OF   TRANSITION  53 

In  expressions  of  such  extreme  self-depreciation  Wes- 
ley, of  course,  did  himself  great  injustice.  He,  himself, 
afterward  modified  or  retracted  them,  and  protested 
that  words  wrung  from  him  ''in  anguish  of  my  heart  '* 
ought  not  to  be  taken  as  deliberate  estimates  of  a  per- 
manent spiritual  condition,  John  Wesley  in  Georgia 
was  certainly  a  Christian,  if  any  man  ever  was.  Yet 
such  passages  may  serve  to  show  how  intense  was  his 
desire  after  an  inner  experience  different  from  any  he 
had  yet  attained,  a  "faith  which  none  can  have  without 
knowing  that  he  hath  it."  Thirteen  years  before,  in 
his  letters  to  his  mother,  he  had  questioned  the  state- 
ment in  Jeremy  Taylor's  ''Holy  Living" — which  he 
was  then  reading  —  that  "Whether  God  hath  forgiven 
us  or  no,  we  know  not";  and  insisted  that  such  a 
knowledge  of  pardon  all  those  must  have  who  believe 
the  Scriptures  and  are  conscious  of  their  own  sincerity. 
But  he  always  craved  something  more  than  this  "rea- 
sonable persuasion,"  and  of  late  years  the  craving  had 
grown  more  intense.  There  was  something  of  the  mys- 
tic in  him,  as  in  all  strongly  religious  natures,  though 
checked  in  his  case  by  the  practical  bent  of  his  disposi- 
tion. For  the  last  three  years,  at  the  suggestion  of 
Law,  he  had  been  reading  the  writings  of  the  German 
mystics,  and  coveted  their  temper  of  security  and  con- 
templation. Indeed,  he  wrote  to  his  brother  Samuel 
from  Georgia,  "I  think  the  rock  on  which  I  had  the 
nearest  made  shipwreck  of  the  faith  was  the  writings 
of  the  Mystics."  But  of  all  the  influences  tending  to 
increase  Wesley's  dissatisfaction  with  himself  the  most 
potent  was  the  example  of  the  Moravians  whose  ac- 
quaintance he  had  made  during  his  Georgia  mission. 
He  had  been  trying  to  observe  the  usages  of  the  early 


54  JOHN  WESLEY 

Christian  Church;  these  men  reproduced  its  spirit. 
Their  quiet  in  danger  and  patience  in  trial,  their  steadi- 
ness of  rehgious  feeHng,  rebuked  his  restless  longings. 
It  was  an  emotional  experience  he  craved,  a  calmness 
and  elevation  of  feeling  rather  than  any  mere  intellec- 
tual conviction.  And  after  all  his  labors,  he  seemed  no 
nearer  attaining  it  than  when  he  left  Oxford. 

To  trace  with  accuracy  the  inner  experience  of  Wes- 
ley during  the  next  three  months  is  needless,  if  it  were 
possible.  Nor  need  we  be  careful  to  fix  any  point  of 
crisis  which  deserves  to  be  called  his  '' conversion " ; 
but  it  is  of  interest  to  perceive  what  was  the  object  of 
his  desire,  and  how  he  attained  it.  For  the  experi- 
ences through  which  he  passed  in  the  first  six  months 
of  that  year  1738  unquestionably  determined  his  future. 
The  moody,  discouraged  John  Wesley,  who  landed  at 
Deal  in  January  of  that  year  was  a  very  different  man 
from  John  Wesley  the  confident  evangelist  of  a  year 
later. 

Wesley  reached  London  on  the  third  of  February. 
Four  days  later  he  met  the  man  to  whom  he  always 
ascribed  his  emergence  from  doubt  and  despondency. 
Peter  Bohler  was  a  young  Moravian  graduate  of  Jena, 
who  had  just  been  sent  by  Zinzendorf  as  a  missionary  to 
the  Carolinas,  and  on  his  way  thither  was  stopping  to 
pay  a  visit  to  his  Moravian  brethren  in  England.  Wes- 
ley, glad  to  meet  another  member  of  that  church  for 
which  he  had  so  high  an  esteem,  welcomed  him  most 
cordially,  and  found  lodgings  for  him  with  some  of  his 
own  friends  in  London.  Shortly  afterward  the  two 
went  down  to  Oxford  together;  and  for  the  remaining 
weeks  of  Bohler's  stay  in  England  Wesley  lost  no  op- 
portunity of  conference  with  him.     Though  ten  years 


THE   YEAR    OF   TRANSITION  55 

younger  than  Wesley,  Bohler  assumed  at  once,  and 
perhaps  justly,  the  position  of  religious  superior,  and 
Wesley  listened  to  his  teachings  with  the  eager  humility 
of  a  disciple.  What  Bohler  had  to  teach  will  doubtless 
seem  to  most  readers  of  the  Journal  only  the  familiar 
and  central  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith  —  a  faith 
which  is  not  an  assent  of  the  intellect  merely  but  an 
experience,  a  confident  personal  reliance  upon  the  di- 
vine Goodness.  Such  a  faith  must  inevitably  bring  to 
its  possessor  a  sense  of  safety  and  assurance;  if  you 
have  not  the  assurance,  you  have  not  the  faith  —  in- 
deed, the  assurance,  Bohler  taught,  is  the  faith.  This 
assurance  is  not  to  be  gained  by  obedience  and  good 
works,  needful  as  these  are ;  it  is  the  gift  of  God.  More- 
over, Bohler  urged,  this  assurance  of  faith  is  given 
instantaneously;  it  is  not  a  growth,  it  is  a  bestowment. 
This  teaching,  Wesley,  characteristically,  did  not  ac- 
cept without  question.  ''Brother,"  said  Bohler  to  him 
in  Oxford,  "this  philosophy  of  yours  must  be  purged 
away;"  and  in  writing  to  Zinzendorf  of  Wesley's  case 
he  said,  "Our  mode  of  believing  in  the  Saviour  is  so 
easy  to  Englishmen  that  they  cannot  reconcile  them- 
selves to  it;  if  it  were  a  little  more  artful,  they  would 
much  sooner  find  their  way  into  it."  And  even  after 
he  admitted  that  Bbhler's  teaching  as  to  the  nature  and 
effect  of  faith  was  supported  by  Scripture  and  attested 
by  the  experience  of  witnesses  whom  Bohler  brought  to 
him,  yet  Wesley  would  not  claim  such  experience  for 
himself.  Contrary  to  what  is  sometimes  supposed, 
there  was  not  the  first  element  of  fanaticism  in  Wesley's 
nature.  His  temperament  was,  rather,  cool  and  logical ; 
he  never  thought  himself  to  find  emotions  in  conscious- 
ness which  were  not  there,  or  read  off  his  convictions 


S6  JOHN  WESLEY 

in  terms  of  feeling.  If  such  emotional  experiences 
as  Bohler  described  were  of  the  essence  of  faith, 
then  he  avowed  he  had  no  faith;  and  he  concluded 
therefore  that  he  ought  not  to  preach.  But  just  here 
Bohler  gave  him  counsel  worth  all  the  rest  of  his  teach- 
ing: "Preach  faith,"  he  said,  "till  you  have  it,  and 
then  because  you  have  it,  you  will  preach  faith."  This 
was,  in  effect,  to  subordinate  mere  personal  experi- 
ence to  the  great  duty  of  preaching  the  Gospel;  and 
was  wiser  advice  than  Bohler  himself  knew. 

How  well  Wesley  followed  this  advice  in  the  next 
three  months  any  reader  of  the  Journal  may  see.  He 
spoke  from  a  pulpit  whenever  a  pulpit  was  offered 
him;  but  this  was  only  a  small  part  of  his  preach- 
ing in  those  weeks.  He  had  not,  indeed,  yet  come 
to  think  formal  worship  proper  anywhere  but  in  a 
church ;  but  he  could  teach  anywhere.  He  went 
back  to  London;  he  went  to  Manchester  to  see  his 
old  Oxford  friend  Clayton;  he  went  to  Salisbury  to 
see  his  mother,  and  to  Tiverton  to  see  his  brother 
Samuel;  he  was  called  back  to  Oxford  by  the  ill- 
ness of  his  brother  Charles  —  and  on  all  these  jour- 
neys, wherever  he  stopped,  in  the  inns  for  dinner  or 
;at  night,  with  fellow-travellers  on  foot  or  horseback, 
with  people  whom  he  met  by  the  roadside,  he  lost  no 
opportunity  of  warning,  exhorting,  directing  men  wher- 
ever he  found  them.  It  is  not  difficult  to  see  in  the  brief 
records  of  these  months  the  growth  of  a  genuinely  evan- 
gelical temper.  Wesley  is  a  missionary  as  never  before. 
He  no  longer  thinks  of  his  efforts  for  others  as  a  means 
to  his  own  holiness.  The  man  is  forgetting  himself  in 
his  work.  Hitherto  the  most  strict  of  ritualists,  we  find 
him  saying  that  he  cannot  any  longer  confine  himself 


THE   YEAR    OF   TRANSITION  57 

to  the  public  forms  of  prayer,  ''neither  do  I  purpose  to 
use  them  any  more,  but  to  pray  indifferently  with  form 
or  without  as  I  may  find  suitable  to  particular  occa- 
sions." And  if  he  still  thinks  himself  to  be  waiting 
for  some  experience  not  yet  attained,  he  frequently  has 
that  best  experience  of  being  carried  out  of  all  regard 
for  himself  in  a  rapture  of  love  for  God  and  his  fellow- 
men. 

"May  9.  I  preached  at  Great  St.  Helen's  to  a  very 
numerous  congregation,  on  'He  that  spared  not  his  own 
Son,  but  delivered  him  up  for  us  all,  how  shall  he  not 
with  him  freely  give  us  all  things.'  My  heart  was 
so  enlarged  to  declare  the  love  of  God  to  all  that  were 
oppressed  by  the  devil,  that  I  did  not  wonder  in  the 
least,  when  I  was  afterward  told,  'Sir,  you  must  preach 
here  no  more.'" 

This  is  not  the  language  of  the  Oxford  Methodist, 
the  ascetic  ritualist  bent  on  saving  his  own  soul.  This 
is  the  voice  of  John  Wesley,  the  evangelist  and  reformer. 

Yet  it  was  not  until  nearly  a  fortnight  after  this  date, 
on  the  24th  of  May,  that  he  believed  himself  to  have 
attained  the  faith  for  which  he  was  waiting.  The  pas- 
sage in  the  Journal  is  a  locus  classicus  in  the  annals  of 
Methodism :  — 

"In  the  evening  I  went  very  unwillingly  to  a  society 
in  Aldersgate  Street  where  one  was  reading  Luther's 
preface  to  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans.  About  a  quarter 
before  nine,  while  he  was  describing  the  change  which 
God  works  in  the  heart  through  faith  in  Christ,  I  felt 
my  heart  strangely  warmed.  I  felt  I  did  trust  in  Christ, 
Christ  alone  for  my  salvation;  and  an  assurance  was 
given  me  that  he  had  taken  away  my  sins,  even  mine, 
and  saved  me  from  the  law  of  sin  and  death." 


58  JOHN  WESLEY 

It  is  not  likely  that  any  one  to-day,  whatever  may  be 
his  theory  as  to  the  cause  of  such  an  experience  as  this, 
will  pronounce  it  merely  enthusiastic,  or  valueless  for 
the  uses  of  after  life.  To  do  so  would  be  to  forget  the 
decisive  moments  in  the  lives  of  Augustine,  Luther, 
and  hosts  of  other  religious  leaders.  The  most  recent 
psychology,  on  the  contrary,  pronounces  these  sudden 
transitions  from  a  lower  to  a  higher,  a  perturbed  to  a 
restful  spiritual  state,  however  caused,  to  be  no  proof 
of  morbid  or  abnormal  psychical  conditions,  but  rather, 
in  countless  instances,  to  mark  the  ingress  of  new  truth 
and  new  motives  otherwise  inaccessible.^  Yet  any  one 
who  reads  Wesley's  Journal  for  the  year  1738  must  per- 
ceive that  the  most  essential  proof  of  his  spiritual  develop- 
ment, through  this  period  of  transition,  is  not  any  such 
temporary  exaltation  and  repose  of  feeling,  memorable 
though  that  was  in  all  his  life,  but  rather  the  growth  of 
the  deep  persuasion  at  once  of  the  divine  goodness  and 
of  human  need,  which  has  been  the  inspiration  of  great 
religious  reformers  in  every  age.  It  was  much  to  have 
gained  that  composure  of  spirit  he  had  so  long  desired ; 

^  "  Some  of  you,  I  feel  sure,  knowing  that  numerous  backslidings 
and  relapses  take  place,  make  of  these  their  apperceiving  mass  for  in- 
terpreting the  whole  subject  [of  conversion],  and  dismiss  it  with  a 
pitying  smile  as  so  much  'hysterics.'  Psychologically,  as  well  as 
religiously,  however,  this  is  shallow.  It  misses  the  point  of  serious  in- 
terest, which  is  not  so  much  the  duration  as  the  nature  and  quality  of 
these  shiftings  of  character  to  higher  levels.  Men  lapse  from  every 
level  —  we  need  no  statistics  to  tell  us  that.  Love  is,  for  instance,  well 
known  not  to  be  irrevocable,  yet,  constant  or  inconstant,  it  reveals  new 
flights  and  reaches  of  ideality  while  it  lasts.  ...  So  with  this  conver- 
sion experience :  that  it  should,  even  for  a  short  time,  show  a  human 
being  what  is  the  high-water  mark  of  his  spiritual  capacity,  —  this  is 
what  constitutes  its  importance.  And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  all  the  most 
striking  instances  of  conversion  .  .  .  have  been  permanent."  William 
James,  "  The  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,"  p.  257. 


THE   YEAR   OF  TRANSITION  59 

it  was  more  to  have  forgotten  even  the  desire  in  unselfish 
love  for  others. 

It  was  but  natural  that  Wesley  himself  should  at  first 
overemphasize  the  importance  of  his  experience.  He 
fell  into  the  serious  error  of  pronouncing  such  emo- 
tional states  to  be  the  only  and  necessary  tests  of  Chris- 
tian character.  In  an  informal  religious  gathering  at 
the  house  of  his  old  friend  Mr.  Hutton,  he  astonished 
the  company  by  rising  to  his  feet  and  declaring  that  up 
to  Wednesday  of  the  previous  week  he  had  never  been 
a  Christian.  "Well,  then,"  was  the  just  reply  of  Mrs. 
Hutton,  ''you  have  been  a  great  hypocrite."  Samuel 
Wesley,  always  the  coolest  and  most  judicious  of  the 
three  brothers,  urged  with  much  truth  that  such  extrava- 
gant statements  were  likely  to  mislead  and  discourage 
many  earnest  people.  In  fact,  as  may  be  seen  from  the 
Journal  in  the  following  months,  they  sometimes  discour- 
aged Wesley  himself,  leading  him  to  mistake  a  tem- 
porary dulness  of  feeling  for  proof  of  a  lapse  in  faith. 
We  find  him  writing,  under  date  of  January  4,  1739,  in 
a  mood  of  depression  apparently  quite  as  deep  as  that 
during  the  voyage  from  Georgia  a  year  before:  "My 
friends  affirm  I  am  mad  because  I  said  I  was  not  a 
Christian  a  year  ago.  I  affirm  I  am  not  a  Christian 
now.  Indeed,  what  I  might  have  been  I  know  not, 
had  I  been  faithful  to  the  grace  then  given,  when  ex- 
pecting nothing  less,  I  received  such  a  sense  of  the  for- 
giveness of  my  sins  as  till  then  I  never  knew.  But  that 
I  am  not  a  Christian  at  this  day,  I  as  assuredly  know 
as  that  Jesus  is  the  Christ.  For  a  Christian  is  one  who 
has  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  which  (to  mention 
no  more)  are  love,  peace,  joy.  But  these  I  have  not. 
I  have  not  any  love  of  God.     I  do  not  love  either  the 


6o  JOHN  WESLEY 

Father  or  the  Son.  Do  you  ask  how  do  I  know  whether 
I  love  God?  I  answer  by  another  question,  'How  do 
you  know  whether  you  love  me?'  Why,  as  you  know 
whether  you  are  hot  or  cold.  You  feel  at  this  moment 
that  you  do  or  do  not  love  me.  And  I  feel  this  mo- 
ment, I  do  not  love  God ;  which  therefore  I  know,  be- 
cause I  feel  it.  .  .  .  Though  I  have  used  all  the  means 
of  grace  for  twenty  years,  I  am  not  a  Christian."  ^ 

But  Wesley  soon  learned  not  to  interpret  too  seriously 
these  vacillations  of  feeling.  Even  during  that  year 
1738,  in  his  more  carefully  considered  public  utterances 
he  seldom  ventured  to  pronounce  mere  temporary  emo- 
tions a  test  of  love  or  faith.  In  a  memorable  sermon 
on  Faith,  preached  in  St.  Mary's,  Oxford,  only  three 
weeks  after  the  24th  of  May,  he  guards  his  statement 
of  the  assurance  that  accompanies  faith,  by  the  admis- 
sion that  it  is  given  ''perhaps  not  at  all  times,  nor  with 
the  same  fulness  of  persuasion."  In  his  old  age  he 
wrote,  "When,  fifty  years  ago,  my  brother  Charles  and 
I,  in  the  simplicity  of  our  hearts,  taught  the  people  that 
unless  they  knew  their  sins  forgiven,  they  were  under 
the  wrath  and  curse  of  God,  I  wonder  that  they  did 
not  stone  us.     The  Methodists  know  better  now." 

It  is  true  that  the  Wesleys  did  teach,  all  their  days, 
that,  in  a  very  real  sense,  men  might  know  their  sins 
forgiven.  They  preached  a  religion  that  could  not  only 
be  professed  and  believed  but  experienced.  Therein  is 
the  secret  of  the  success  of  the  whole  Methodist  move- 
ment.    That  confidence  speaks  bold  in  Methodist  ser- 

^  In  the  Journal  this  passage  is  prefaced  by  the  statement,  "  One  who 
had  the  form  of  godliness  many  years  wrote  the  following  reflections  ;" 
but  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  Wesley  was  expressing  his  own  mood  at 
this  time. 


THE   YEAR   OF   TRANSITION  6i 

mons  and  rings  glad  in  Methodist  song.  It  was  the 
one  most  unfortunate  result  of  the  Moravian  influence 
that  Wesley  for  a  time  tended  to  confuse  this  assur- 
ance with  the  evidence  of  fluctuating  personal  feeling. 
But  it  was  only  for  a  little  time.  After  1739  we  never 
find  in  his  Journal  such  passages  as  that  just  now  quoted. 
Many  readers  of  the  Journal  have  probably  been  sur- 
prised to  notice  that,  during  the  last  fifty  years  of  his 
life,  there  is  hardly  a  reference  to  his  own  emotions. 
He  tells  you  a  good  deal  about  the  experiences  of 
others;  for  himself,  he  tells  you  where  he  went,  to 
whom  he  preached,  what  he  saw,  what  he  did,  what 
he  read;  he  very  seldom  tells  you  how  he  felt.  He 
certainly  was  not  one  of  those  Christians  who  always 
live  with  an  anxious  finger  on  their  spiritual  pulse. 
His  faith  is  a  healthy,  settled  confidence,  undisturbed 
by  shifting  moods. 

Meantime,  in  the  summer  of  1738,  Wesley,  feeling 
deeply  his  indebtedness  to  the  Moravians,  determined 
to  see  them  in  their  own  community.  He  left  London 
early  in  June,  and  journeyed  by  way  of  Amsterdam, 
Cologne,  and  the  Rhine  to  Marienborn,  about  thirty- 
five  miles  from  Frankfort.  Here  Count  Zinzendorf 
was  living  as  the  head  of  a  company  of  about  ninety 
persons,  most  of  whom  were  in  training  for  work  as 
missionaries.  Wesley  stayed  here  a  fortnight,  eagerly 
studying  their  discipline,  and  hearing  an  extended  ser- 
mon from  Zinzendorf,  in  which  the  teaching  seems  to 
have  been  somewhat  at  variance  with  what  he  had 
learned  from  Bohler.  If  tradition  speaks  truly,  the 
Count  treated  the  young  English  seeker  after  truth  in 
somewhat  lofty  fashion.  It  is  said  that  he  one  day  set 
Wesley  to  dig  in  his  garden,  and  after  an  hour's  heated 


62  JOHN  WESLEY 

work  suddenly  summoned  him  to  enter  a  carriage  and 
visit  a  nobleman  in  the  vicinity.  When  Wesley  asked 
a  little  time  to  bathe  and  change  his  clothing,  the  Count 
replied,  ''You  must  be  simple,  my  brother!"  Wesley, 
at  all  events,  certainly  has  little  to  say  of  Zinzendorf  in 
his  Journal;  one  gets  the  impression  that  he  did  not 
find  the  great  man  altogether  congenial.  From  Mari- 
enborn,  Wesley  went  on  to  the  principal  Moravian  set- 
tlement at  Herrnhut.  In  this  remote  and  peaceful 
village,  on  the  edge  of  Bohemia,  lying  among  corn- 
fields and  gardens  and  shut  in  by  a  girdle  of  wooded 
hills,  Wesley  passed  a  delightful  fortnight.  The  com- 
munity, clean,  industrious,  methodical,  devout,  showed  all 
the  virtues  of  the  monastic  life  without  any  of  its  un- 
natural austerities.  The  brethren  had  a  house  set  apart 
for  strangers,  and  here  Wesley  was  entertained.  He  at- 
tended the  daily  evening  service  of  noble  music.  Scripture, 
and  prayer,  the  daily  conference  at  eleven  in  the  morn- 
ing for  the  exposition  of  a  passage  of  Scripture  in  the 
original,  and  the  conferences  for  strangers  at  which 
questions  of  doctrine  were  discussed.  And,  best  of  all, 
in  long  private  conversations  with  members  of  the  com- 
munity, he  heard  and  wrote  down  in  his  Journal  the 
stories  which  these  plain  folk,  one  after  another,  gave 
him  of  their  own  experiences.  He  records  no  less  than 
eight  such  narratives.  Most  of  all,  he  found  profit  in 
the  counsels  of  that  remarkable  man,  the  planter  of  the 
Herrnhut  settlement  and  first  Protestant  missionary  to 
Greenland,  —  Christian  David.  Wesley  held  long  con- 
versations with  him,  and  heard  him  preach  four  ser- 
mons, one  of  which  is  recorded  in  the  Journal. 

In  such  a  place  and  with  such  men  Wesley  declared 
he  could  gladly  have  spent  the  rest  of  his  life.     It  was 


THE   YEAR   OF   TRANSITION  63 

with  genuine  reluctance  that  he  turned  his  face  again 
toward  his  work  at  home.  He  left  Herrnhut  on  the 
14th  of  August  and  reached  London  a  month  later.  On 
the  whole,  his  visit,  while  it  strengthened  the  Moravian 
influence  upon  him,  had  broadened  as  well  as  deepened 
his  conception  of  the  religious  life.  He  had  gained 
abundant  testimony  to  the  reality  of  that  personal  ex- 
perience in  which  he  was  now  supremely  interested ; 
but  he  had  learned  also  that  this  experience,  always 
the  same  in  its  essentials,  takes  different  forms  in  dif- 
ferent persons.  He  had  seen  the  teaching  of  Bohler 
supplemented,  if  not  contradicted,  by  the  lives  of  some 
of  Bohler's  Moravian  brethren.  He  was,  therefore,  a 
little  more  careful  about  extreme  statements  himself, 
and  more  doubtful  about  the  wisdom  of  making  any 
definite  phase  of  emotional  experience  the  test  of 
Christian  character.  He  had  seen,  moreover,  some 
tendencies  among  the  Moravians  that  he  did  not  alto- 
gether approve.  In  a  letter  written  to  them  five  days 
after  his  return  to  London,  after  dwelling  upon  their 
piety  and  virtues,  he  propounds  the  following  ques- 
tions :  — 

''Is  not  the  Count  all  in  all  among  you? 

"Do  you  not  magnify  your  own  Church  too  much? 

"Do  you  not  use  guile  and  dissimulation  in  many 
cases  ? 

"Are  you  not  of  a  close,  dark,  reserved  temper  and 
behavior?" 

The  letter,  to  be  sure,  was  never  sent;  but  it  indi- 
cates what  was  in  Wesley's  mind  at  the  moment.  It  is 
easy  to  understand  the  reference  to  the  arrogance  of 
Zinzendorf.  Wesley  never  formed  a  very  favorable 
estimate  of  him ;  but  the  charges  in  the  last  two  queries 


64  JOHN   WESLEY 

are  surprising.  They  were  probably  unjust ;  but  they 
suggest  that  Wesley  perceived  in  his  Moravian  breth- 
ren some  traces  of  that  spiritual  exclusiveness  and  pre- 
tension which  ultimately  produced  his  rupture  with 
them. 

The  work  of  Wesley  during  the  remaining  months  of 
1738  and  the  first  months  of  1739  was  mostly  that  of 
the  religious  adviser  and  confessor.  He  preached  in 
churches  whenever  opportunity  offered;  but  most  of 
the  London  pulpits  were  closed  to  him.  By  the  end  of 
1738  there  were  not  more  than  three  or  four  churches 
in  London  in  which  he  was  allowed  to  preach.  This 
fact  that  he  was  so  promptly  excluded  from  the  pulpits 
of  London  is  often  said  to  be  a  proof  of  the  decay  of 
vital  religion  in  England.  And  so  it  is.  Yet  there  is 
something  to  be  said  in  defence  of  the  action  of  the 
churches.  The  new  zeal  of  Wesley,  as  we  have  seen, 
and  as  he  himself  afterward  confessed,  often  found  ex- 
pression in  forms  that  must  have  seemed  to  those  not 
in  sympathy  with  him  extravagant  and  censorious.  He 
did  not,  in  fact,  always  maintain  a  modest  or  concilia- 
tory temper.  In  a  correspondence  with  William  Law 
during  the  summer  of  1738,  he  ventured  to  rebuke  and 
correct  the  venerable  teacher  to  whom  he  owed  so 
much,  in  a  tone  of  inexcusable  positiveness,  neither 
just  nor  courteous.  Samuel  Wesley,  writing  to  Mrs. 
Hutton  with  reference  to  his  brother's  extravagances, 
owned  a  fear  that  perpetual  intenseness  of  thought 
and  want  of  sleep  may  have  disordered  Jack's  intellect. 
The  doctrines  Wesley  was  preaching  were  doubtless, 
when  properly  stated,  as  he  said,  only  those  held  by 
English  divines  ever  since  the  Reformation ;  yet,  in  his 
extreme  and  mandatory  forms  of  statement,  they  were 


THE   YEAR   OF  TRANSITION  65 

sure  to  provoke  dissent.  It  is  not  surprising  that  a 
good  many  of  the  clergy,  by  no  means  worldly  minded, 
should  decline  to  be  censured  a  second  time  from  their 
own  pulpits  by  this  young  stranger  from  Georgia  who 
seemed  attempting  to  show  that  the  Christianity  they 
preached,  and  he  had  himself  until  recently  professed, 
was  not  Christianity  at  all. 

But  most  of  Wesley's  influence  in  the  latter  part  of 
this  year  1738  was  exerted  through  another  form  of 
organization  destined  to  play  a  very  important  part  in 
all  his  later  work.  Both  in  Oxford  and  in  Georgia,  as 
we  have  seen,  he  had  favored  the  union  of  religious  per- 
sons in  groups  or  private  societies  for  mutual  counsel 
and  encouragement.  Societies  of  this  kind,  it  should 
be  understood,  were  no  device  of  Wesley's;  they  had 
existed  in  the  English  Church  for  more  than  fifty  years. 
There  were  at  that  time  several  in  London,  in  which, 
as  we  learn  from  the  Journal,  Wesley  spoke  and  ex- 
pounded the  Scriptures  during  the  months  following  his 
return  from  Germany.  These  were  Church  societies; 
but  in  May  Wesley  had  formed  —  or,  at  all  events,  had 
been  prominent  in  forming  —  a  little  society  of  a  some- 
what different  sort.  It  was  suggested  by  Peter  Bohler ; 
and  its  conditions  of  membership,  the  plan  of  dividing 
its  members  into  small  groups,  or  "bands,"  of  not  less 
than  five  or  more  than  ten,  each  band  meeting  by  itself 
twice  a  week  and  all  together  on  Wednesday  evenings, 
its  monthly  love-feast,  its  insistence  that  the  members 
should  have  no  secrets  from  one  another,  even  in  per- 
sonal matters,  —  all  these  features  were  patterned  closely 
after  the  Moravian  usage  at  Herrnhut.  And  most  of 
its  members  were  London  Moravians.  Indeed,  it  was, 
to  all  intents  and  purposes,  a  Moravian  brotherhood 


66  JOHN  WESLEY 

rather  than  a  Church  society.  The  regular  weekly 
meetings  of  this  society  were  held  in  a  room  in  Fetter 
Lane ;  and  it  became  for  a  time  the  centre  of  Wesley's 
London  work.  By  the  time  of  his  return  from  the 
continent  in  September,  it  had  grown  from  ten  mem- 
bers to  thirty-two,  and  the  next  New  Year's  Day  he 
records  that  a  love-feast  held  at  Fetter  Lane  was  at- 
tended by  seven  ministers  —  all  of  them  his  old  Oxford 
friends  of  the  Holy  Club  —  and  sixty  laymen.  Thus 
teaching  and  expounding  in  the  Societies  and  in  private 
houses,  reading  prayers  and  exhorting  in  prisons  and 
workhouses,  preaching  in  the  three  or  four  London 
churches  yet  occasionally  opened  to  him,  with  two 
short  visits  to  Oxford,  Wesley  passed  the  time  until  at 
the  end  of  the  next  March,  1 739,  a  new  and  wider  field  of 
labor  opened  before  him. 

During  the  winter  of  1 738-1 739,  the  representative 
of  the  Methodist  movement  most  prominent  in  the  eye 
of  the  public  was  not  John  Wesley  but  George  White- 
field.  In  the  previous  year,  1737,  while  Wesley  was 
in  Georgia,  Whitefield,  though  a  young  man  of  only 
twenty-one  just  out  of  the  University,  won  sudden 
and  most  extraordinary  reputation  as  a  preacher.  In 
Gloucester,  his  native  place,  and  in  Bristol,  crowds  filled 
the  churches  to  hear  him  every  day  in  the  week.  He 
had  accepted  Wesley's  call  to  come  out  to  Savannah, 
and  when  he  went  up  to  London  to  solicit  aid  for  the 
Georgia  mission,  he  found  eager  throngs  awaiting  him 
there.  In  three  months  he  preached  a  hundred  times 
in  London  and  collected  a  thousand  pounds.  Wesley, 
influenced  probably  by  his  own  failure,  had  advised 
him  at  the  last  moment  not  to  go  to  Georgia;   but  he 


THE  YEAR  OF  TRANSITION  67 

wisely  disregarded  the  advice,  and  his  reception  in  the 
colony  was  in  striking  contrast  to  that  accorded  Wes- 
ley. He  made  friends  everywhere;  and  after  a  stay 
of  six  months,  returned  with  the  cordial  good  will  of  the 
colonists,  to  take  priest's  orders  and  to  collect  moneys 
for  the  orphanage  he  had  founded  in  Savannah.  He 
reached  London  early  in  December  of  1738,  and  was 
warmly  welcomed  by  Wesley,  who  hurried  up  from 
Oxford  to  greet  him. 

But  Whitefield  found  that,  while  the  people  were  as 
eager  as  ever  to  hear  him,  the  churches  were  not  now 
so  ready  to  receive  him.  The  clergy  generally  re- 
garded him  with  suspicion  as  the  friend  and  disciple  of 
the  Wesleys.  He  was  told  by  the  Bishop  of  London  — 
who  had  just  been  reproving  Wesley  —  that  his  teach- 
ing was  tinctured  with  enthusiasm.  He  managed  to 
preach  a  number  of  times  in  London,  but  by  the  end  of 
January  all  the  pulpits  of  the  city  were  closed  against 
him.  Then,  shut  out  of  London,  he  went  down  to 
Bristol  where  he  had  been  so  gladly  received  a  year 
and  a  half  before.  But  here,  also,  he  found,  to  his  sur- 
prise, that  he  was  to  be  silenced.  He  was  informed 
that  he  could  not  preach  in  St.  Mary  Redcliffe's,  or 
any  other  Bristol  church  without  a  license  from  the 
Chancellor  of  the  city ;  the  Chancellor  refused  to  grant 
a  license  until  after  hearing  from  the  Bishop  of  the 
diocese,  and  advised  him  to  leave  the  city.  *'Why  did 
you  not  require  a  license  from  the  clergyman  that 
preached  last  Thursday?"  asked  Whitefield.  ''That 
is  nothing  to  you,"  was  the  cool  reply.  The  Dean  of 
St.  Mary's,  when  asked  whether  Whitefield  might  preach 
for  the  orphanage  in  Georgia,  "could  not  tell,"  and 
postponed  definite  answer  on  the  plea  of  urgent  busi- 


68  JOHN  WESLEY 

ness  at  that  hour.  Thus  denied  the  pulpits  of  Bristol, 
Whitefield  suddenly  took  a  most  important  resolution. 
Four  miles  northeast  of  Bristol  was  a  rough  tract  of 
country  called  Kingswood,  inhabited  by  a  class  of  men 
who  never  saw  the  inside  of  a  church,  and  never  heard 
the  voice  of  a  preacher.  The  colliers  of  Kingswood 
were  perhaps  the  worst  specimens  of  the  English  popu- 
lace. Ignorant,  lewd,  profane,  and  brutal,  they  were 
the  terror  of  the  law  and  the  despair  of  philanthropy. 
It  was  to  these  people  that  Whitefield  now  turned.  On 
February  17  he  preached  in  the  open  air  on  Kings- 
wood  Common.  About  a  hundred  grimy,  brawling 
colliers  had  assembled  to  hear  him ;  when,  three  weeks 
later,  he  preached  for  the  fifth  time,  there  were  ten 
thousand.  He  had  found  a  new  pulpit,  from  which  no 
ecclesiastical  authorities  could  exclude  him;  and  an 
audience  no  church  could  ever  have  collected. 

The  decision  once  taken  to  preach  in  the  open  air, 
there  were  opportunities  enough  to  speak  and  no  lack 
of  hearers.  A  gentleman  gave  him  the  use  of  a  bowl- 
ing-green in  the  heart  of  Bristol,  and  here  he  addressed 
audiences  of  eight  to  ten  thousand.  He  preached  in  a 
dozen  different  places  outside  the  city  and  in  neighbor- 
ing towns,  and  in  some  instances  as  many  as  twenty 
thousands  person  are  said  to  have  gathered  to  hear  him. 
Filled  with  enthusiasm  at  the  success  of  this  new  form 
of  missionary  effort,  he  was  eager  to  carry  his  message 
to  the  unchurched  multitudes  of  London.  But  he  did 
not  wish  to  leave  the  thousands  who  had  been  hearing 
him  all  uncared  for.  He  bethought  himself  of  Wesley, 
whose  gifts  of  instruction  and  organization  he  knew  to 
be  superior  to  his  own,  and  wrote  to  London  urgently 
requesting  Wesley  to  come  to  Bristol  and  take  charge 


THE  YEAR   OF   TRANSITION  69 

of  the  great  work  begun  there.  Wesley  hesitated.  His 
time  was  fully  and  profitably  occupied  in  London. 
His  many  friends  protested  against  his  leaving  them. 
His  brother  Charles  was  especially  urgent  that  he  must 
not  go.  Uncertain  what  he  ought  to  do,  he  referred 
the  matter  to  the  Fetter  Lane  Society;  but  they  were 
divided  in  their  counsels,  and  the  question  was  at  last 
decided,  after  the  Moravian  fashion,  by  opening  the 
Bible  at  random  and  observing  the  significance  of  the 
first  passage  that  met  the  eye.  Wesley  says  he  had 
felt  the  more  reluctant  to  go,  when,  some  days  before, 
he  had  tried  this  biblical  sortilege  by  himself,  and 
opened  upon  the  verse,  ''And  devout  men  carried 
Stephen  to  his  burial  and  made  great  lamentation  for 
him";  it  is  not  very  clear  how  he  could  find  opposite 
leading  in  the  passage  that  decided  the  Fetter  Lane 
trial,  "And  Ahaz  slept  with  his  fathers,  and  they  buried 
him  in  the  city,  even  in  Jerusalem."  In  this  case,  as 
in  most  similar  ones,  it  is  easy  to  conjecture  that  the 
divine  will  was  interpreted  in  accordance  with  the  in- 
clination of  the  seeker. 

Wesley  arrived  in  Bristol  on  Saturday,  March  31. 
Next  day  he  heard  Whitefield  preach  in  the  open  air; 
and  disliked  it  much.  He  could  hardly  reconcile  him- 
self to  it,  he  says,  having  all  his  life  been  so  accustomed 
to  insist  rigidly  upon  all  points  of  order  and  decency 
that  he  thought  the  saving  of  souls  almost  a  sin  unless 
it  were  done  in  a  church.  But  if  he  was  to  continue 
Whitefield 's  work,  there  seemed  no  other  way.  Next 
day,  Monday,  April  i,  at  four  in  the  afternoon,  with 
great  reluctance,  and  feeling  that  he  was  making  him- 
self vile  by  such  a  breach  of  all  proprieties,  he  stood  on 
a  little  eminence  just  outside  the  city,  and  spoke  to 


70  JOHN   WESLEY 

three  thousand  listeners.  With  unconscious  prophetic 
truth  he  took  for  his  text:  "The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is 
upon  me,  because  he  hath  anointed  me  to  preach  the 
Gospel  to  the  poor.  He  hath  sent  me  to  heal  the  broken- 
hearted ;  to  preach  deliverance  to  the  captives,  and  re- 
covery of  sight  to  the  blind ;  to  set  at  liberty  them  that 
are  bruised,  to  proclaim  the  acceptable  year  of  the 
Lord."  What  were  the  results  of  that  sermon  we  do 
not  know;  but  we  know  that  within  the  next  month 
Wesley  preached  again  and  again  in  the  open  air,  till 
his  audiences  during  the  month  aggregated  forty  thou- 
sand persons.  That  Monday  was  a  fortunate  day  for 
him  and  for  the  world.  A  new  chapter  in  his  religious 
life  is  beginning.  He  has  passed  out  of  the  feverish, 
introverted  temper  gendered  by  the  excessive  Moravian 
influence.  Henceforth  we  find  in  his  Journal  no  more 
doubts,  no  more  unhealthy  self-examinations.  His 
soul  is  saved,  because  he  has  found  his  work.  John 
Wesley,  the  ascetic,  the  uneasy,  self-questioning  mystic, 
has  passed  into  John  Wesley,  the  evangelist  and  re- 
former, his  parish  the  world  and  his  message  to  all 
sorts  and  conditions  of  men. 


^ 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  EARLY  WORK 

1 739-1 742 

All  historians  of  society  are  agreed  that  both  the 
morals  and  the  rehgion  of  England,  in  1740,  were  in 
need  of  reform.  If  the  little 'circle  of  people  immedi- 
ately about  the  court  were  less  openly  dissolute  than 
in  the  Restoration  period  seventy-five  years  before, 
their  manners  were  more  vulgar.  A  sodden  coarse- 
ness characterized  what  called  itself  the  best  society. 
King  George  II  united  the  morals  of  a  rake  with  the 
tastes  of  a  boor.  Queen  Caroline,  a  woman  of  great 
native  force  of  character,  while  not  herself  chargeable 
with  infidelity,  made  the  gross  vices  of  her  husband  the 
subject  of  broad  jests,  and,  on  the  testimony  of  the 
Duchess  of  Marlborough,  —  herself  a  proverb  for  coarse- 
ness,— ^  seldom  was  in  her  drawing-room  half  an  hour 
without  saying  something  shocking.  Robert  Walpole, 
the  prime  minister  and  ablest  statesman  of  his  age, 
had  no  tastes  above  those  of  the  cock-pit  and  the  stable, 
sneered  at  virtue  in  man  or  woman,  scandalized  even 
that  age  by  the  boisterous  debaucheries  of  his  country 
house  at  Houghton,  and  lived  in  avowed  adultery 
through  the  greater  part  of  his  career.  Under  the 
reign  of  Anne,  the  urbane  satire  of  Steele  and  Addison 
had  done  something  to  bring  into  fashion,  for  a  time, 
a  decent  social  morality  and  at  least  some  outward 

71 


72  JOHN    WESLEY 

respect  for  religion ;  but  despite  these  influences,  what 
called  itself  fashionable  society  grew  steadily  more  lax 
in  morals  and  negligent  in  manners  through  the  second 
quarter  of  the  century,  A  period  of  commercial  pros- 
perity only  made  morals  worse.  All  the  loud,  ostenta- 
tious vices  that  often  accompany  a  rapid  increase  in 
wealth  had  probably  never  before  been  so  prevalent  in 
English  society  as  during  the  reign  of  the  second  George. 
The  dress,  the  equipage,  the  entertainments  of  the  upper 
classes  all  showed  a  glaring  extravagance  untempered 
either  by  taste  or  by  morality.  Cards  were  the  usual 
form  of  entertainment  in  all  social  assemblies,  and  the 
stakes  were  very  high.  Lady  Cowper,  one  of  the  maids 
of  honor,  excused  herself  from  play  at  one  of  the  draw- 
ing-rooms because  no  one  thought  of  putting  down 
less  than  two  hundred  pounds.  The  mania  for  gaming 
in  all  forms  pervaded  society.  Ladies  did  their  shop- 
ping where  with  every  purchase  they  were  given  a  ticket 
for  a  raffle;  public  enterprises  were  supported  by  lot- 
tery schemes  in  which  everybody  bought  shares;  and 
the  whole  nation  for  some  months  went  mad  over  the 
gigantic  South  Sea  Bubble  that  beggared  nobles  and 
drove  scores  of  deluded  speculators  to  suicide.  Fash- 
ionable amusements  were  either  coarse  or  vapid.  The 
stage  was  mostly  given  over  to  farces  and  spectacles. 
Music,  the  one  form  of  art  in  which  the  King  took  any 
interest,  received  very  little  encouragement;  Lord 
Chesterfield  once  retired  from  a  scantily  attended  per- 
formance of  one  of  Handel's  oratorios  before  the  Court, 
with  the  witty  excuse  that  he  feared  he  was  disturbing 
his  Majesty's  privacy.  A  more  favorite  form  of  fash- 
ionable amusement  in  the  theatres  and  public  gardens 
was  the  masquerade  or  masked  ball,  often  known  as 


THE  EARLY   WORK  73 

the  ''ridotto."  They  furnished  opportunity  for  viola- 
tions of  all  propriety  so  flagrant  that  Miss  Chudleigh, 
one  of  the  Queen's  maids  of  honor,  hardly  provoked 
remonstrance  when  she  appeared  one  evening,  almost 
entirely  naked,  in  the  character  of  Iphigenia.  Yet  in 
spite  of  the  denunciations  of  the  clergy  and  of  protests 
from  the  Grand  Jury  of  Middlesex,  they  continued  to 
be  given  till  after  the  middle  of  the  century. 

The  public  manners  of  good  society  were  everywhere 
very  lax.  Horace  Walpole  tells  a  characteristic  story 
of  five  lords  and  three  pretty  young  ladies  who  accepted 
the  invitation  of  Lady  Caroline  Petersham  to  spend  an 
evening  at  Vauxhall.  One  of  the  lords  was  "very 
drunk"  all  the  time  and  pestered  the  ladies  with  his 
maudlin  attentions ;  Lady  Caroline  minced  seven  chick- 
ens and  stewed  them  in  a  dish  over  a  lamp,  while  the 
vivacious  converse  of  the  ladies  drew  the  attention  of 
the  whole  garden,  and  Sir  Harry  Vane  "drank  the 
healths"  of  the  crowd  that  assembled  around  their 
booth. ^  In  such  places  of  public  resort  drunkenness 
was  hardly  a  matter  of  reproach,  and  profanity,  loud 
and  open,  might  often  have  been  heard  on  the  lips  of 
fine  ladies,  unabashed  and  unrebuked.  How  vapid 
and  how  coarse  was  the  talk  of  lords  and  ladies  in 
smaller  companies  or  at  home  may  be  seen  in  the  bit- 
ter satire  of  Swift's  "Polite  Conversation."  About  the 
middle  of  the  century  this  universal  rudeness  produced, 
in  a  certain  section  of  society  best  represented  by  Lord 
Chesterfield,  a  tendency  to  reaction  which  expressed 
itself  in  an  elaborate  artificiality  of  speech  and  manner ; 
but  the  temper  thus  veiled  was  essentially  immoral 
and  often,  indeed,  essentially  vulgar.     It  is  doubtless 

^  Walpole  to  Montagu,  June  23,  1750. 


74  JOHN  WESLEY 

unjust  to  draw  inferences  as  to  a  whole  class  from 
instances  of  depravity  so  exceptional  as  to  receive  con- 
temporary notice  and  record ;  but  the  concurrent  testi- 
mony of  history  and  literature  forces  us  to  believe  that 
never  before  had  what  called  itself  the  best  society  of 
England  shown  less  refinement,  intelligence,  or  purity 
than  at  just  the  moment  when  John  Wesley  began  his 
work. 

At  the  opposite  social  extreme  was  the  great  mass  of 
ignorant,  restless,  half-brutalized  population  which  we 
have  learned  to  call  "submerged."  This  element  was 
relatively  no  larger  then  than  now,  but  now  society  is 
better  policed,  and  the  crime  and  savagery  of  its  lowest 
section  more  effectively  repressed.  The  picture  of  the 
under  side  of  life  in  England  during  the  second  quarter 
of  the  eighteenth  century  is  appalling.  Drunkenness 
was  almost  universal.  Mr.  Lecky  considers  the  sudden 
growth  of  the  passion  for  gin  drinking  which  took  pos- 
session of  the  English  people  about  1725  to  be  the  most 
important  fact  in  the  history  of  the  century,  "incom- 
parably more  so  than  any  event  in  the  purely  political 
or  military  annals  of  the  country."  Parliamentary 
measures  of  taxation  intended  to  diminish  the  evil  were 
met  by  riots  and  proved  altogether  inoperative.  In 
1750  London  physicians  reported  fourteen  thousand 
cases  of  illness,  most  of  them  hopeless,  due  to  the  use 
of  gin.  The  next  year  Fielding  declared  this  liquor  to 
be  actually  "the  principal  sustenance  (if  so  it  may  be 
called)  of  more  than  one  hundred  thousand  people  in 
the  metropolis" — and  this  when,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered, the  entire  population  of  London  was  under 
eight  hundred  thousand.  Every  sixth  house  in  Lon- 
don was  a  gin  shop.     Of  course  crime  increased  pro- 


THE   EARLY   WORK  75 

portionately.  The  parks  and  gardens  where  the  lower 
classes  resorted  were  the  scenes  of  vulgar  debauchery 
and  violence.  When  Whitefield  first  ventured  to  speak 
in  Moorfields,  one  of  the  worst  spots  in  London,  his 
friends  predicted  that  he  would  never  come  out  alive. 
After  nightfall,  London  was  at  the  mercy  of  footpads 
and  desperadoes.  Indeed,  assault  and  robbery  were 
not  uncommon  on  the  London  streets  in  broad  day- 
light. Just  outside  the  city,  in  Hampstead  or  Hackney, 
coaches  were  stopped  almost  every  day  and  their  pas- 
sengers plundered.  It  was  the  heroic  age  of  highway 
robbery;  Jack  Sheppard,  Jonathan  Wild,  and  Dick 
Turpin,  all  three  ended  their  career  on  the  gallows  be- 
tween 1724  and  1740.  The  laws  were  savage  but  inef- 
fectual. The  infliction  of  the  death  penalty  alike  for 
murder  and  for  petty  theft  tended  to  increase  crimes  of 
violence.  Public  executions  at  Tyburn  were  a  form  of 
popular  recreation  attended  by  great  crowds  from  all 
classes;  and  as  many  as  a  score  of  criminals  were 
sometimes  turned  off  in  a  single  morning.  The  prisons, 
which  were  mostly  occupied  by  poor  debtors,  were 
sinks  of  filth,  stench,  and  disease  such  as  it  is  now 
difficult  to  conceive. 

Throughout  the  country  things  were  little  better. 
Cock-fighting  and  bull-baiting  were  still  the  favorite 
amusements  of  the  lower  class,  and  every  prominent 
town  could  furnish  a  mob  of  lewd  and  shiftless  fellows 
ready  for  any  brutal  excitement.  There  were  as  yet 
few  good  roads  to  connect  the  larger  towns  and  to  serve 
the  spread  of  intelligence.  The  agricultural  laboring 
class,  though  not  turbulent,  were  isolated,  ignorant, 
stolid.  It  is  significant  that  Wesley,  who  had  known 
these  people  in  Epworth  and  Wroote,  always  deemed 


76  JOHN  WESLEY 

the  rural  peasantry  almost  inaccessible  to  good  influ- 
ences. Referring  in  his  Journal  to  the  poetic  encomi- 
ums often  passed  on  a  country  life,  he  exclaims :  "What  a 
flat  contradiction  is  this  to  universal  experience.  Our 
eyes  and  ears  may  convince  us  there  is  not  a  less  happy 
body  of  men  in  all  England  than  the  country  farmers. 
In  general  their  life  is  supremely  dull ;  and  it  is  usually 
unhappy  too."  Wherever  any  form  of  industry  called 
together  large  numbers  of  ignorant,  unskilled  work- 
men, the  restraints  of  orderly  society  were  almost  en- 
tirely removed;  the  colliers  of  Yorkshire  and  the 
miners  of  Cornwall  were  little  better  than  hordes  of 
wild  men.  For  this  lawless  mass  of  humanity,  in  city 
and  in  country,  that  surged  about  the  foundations  of 
society,  decent,  order-loving  folk  had  only  hatred  and 
threats  of  punishment.  Philanthropy  was  hopeless  of 
them.  It  was  noticed  that  those  charitable  and  re- 
forming societies  which  had  been  organized  in  the  reign 
of  Anne  had  accomplished  nothing  for  them.  The 
church  seemed  powerless  to  take  religion  to  them;  it 
was  certain  they  would  never  come  to  the  church. 

Yet  it  was  among  these  people  that  the  first  Metho- 
dist preachers  found  attentive  audiences.  A  few  weeks 
before  Whitefield  began  to  preach  to  the  Kingswood 
colliers,  in  a  Bristol  riot  they  were  "playing  such  mad 
pranks  that  one  would  doubt  there  were  any  law  still  in 
being."  Six  months  later,  hundreds  of  them  were  en- 
rolled in  Wesley's  societies,  and  were  supporting  a 
school  established  for  them.  Moorfields,  which  White- 
field  called  truly  enough  "a  stronghold  of  Satan,"  in 
two  years  became  a  stronghold  of  London  Methodism. 
If  the  lowest  classes  in  England  grew  better  through 
the  last  half  of  the  century  rather  than  worse ;  if  respect 


THE   EARLY   WORK  77 

for  law  and  reverence  for  religion  penetrated  to  those 
masses  at  the  bottom  of  society  upon  the  decency  and 
order  of  which  the  stability  of  the  social  structure  so 
largely  depends ;  if  a  rabid  revolt  against  all  established 
things,  such  as  disgraced  the  worst  period  of  the  French 
Revolution,  was  impossible  in  England ;  the  historian 
must  pronounce  that  this  improvement  was  due,  in  no 
small  degree,  to  the  influence  of  the  Methodist  move- 
ment. 

But  it  is  neither  in  the  highest  nor  in  the  lowest  orders 
of  society  that  we  must  look  for  the  greatest  results  of 
Methodism.  The  most  important  fact  in  English  his- 
tory during  the  eighteenth  century  is  the  rise  of  a  new 
middle  class.  Active,  pushing,  practical,  largely  occu- 
pied in  trade  and  the  various  forms  of  skilled  labor,  the 
men  of  this  class  were  increasingly  interested  in  public 
affairs,  and  it  was  evident  that  they  would  sometime 
hold  the  balance  of  political  power  in  England.  They 
were  crowding  into  the  cities  and  changing  the  ratio  of 
urban  to  country  population.  They  were  growing 
wealthy,  too ;  some  considerable  portion  of  the  national 
debt  England  had  been  piling  up  during  the  reigns  of 
William  and  Anne  was  already  in  their  hands,  and  it 
was  largely  their  money  that  was  to  fight  England's 
battles  for  the  next  fifty  years.  To  them  belonged  the 
future ;  on  them,  in  no  small  degree,  depended  the  fate 
of  constitutional  government  and  the  permanence  of 
ordered  society.  Neither  political  party  could  afford  to 
slight  them;  but  by  virtue  of  their  humble  birth  and 
their  commercial  and  mechanical  pursuits  they  were 
naturally  prejudiced  against  the  landed  aristocracy  and 
in  sympathy  with  the  Whigs.  Though  rather  narrow 
in  ideas,  they  were  active-minded  and  not  unintelligent ; 


78  JOHN   WESLEY 

they  were  coming  to  be  a  reading  class.  For  them  the 
pamphlet  was  written ;  many  of  the  able  pamphleteers, 
like  Defoe,  were  themselves  of  this  class.  Indeed,  it  is 
easy  to  trace  in  all  the  literature  of  the  time  a  more 
democratic  cast.  The  new  school  of  fiction,  for  exam- 
ple, beginning  with  the  story  of  a  maid-of-all-work  in 
Richardson's  ''Pamela,"  finds  its  themes  and  its  char- 
acters almost  exclusively  in  the  life  of  this  middle  class. 
The  average  morality  of  people  in  this  grade  of  society 
was  probably  quite  as  healthy  as  that  in  the  higher 
ranks,  but  they  had  perhaps  even  less  regard  for  reli- 
gion. Living  mostly  in  cities  and  large  towns,  removed 
from  the  traditional  reverence  which  lingers  longest  in 
the  shadow  of  the  country  church,  they  rather  prided 
themselves  on  their  emancipation  from  conventions. 
Many  of  them  were  dissenters;  but  many  more  were 
virtually  without  any  religion.  Yet  to  men  of  this 
stamp  the  positive  demands  and  promises  of  Method- 
ism made  a  powerful  appeal.  These  were  the  people 
who  filled  up  Wesley's  societies  and  furnished  all  his 
lay  preachers. 

But  while  you  can  say  a  great  many  unhandsome 
things  truly  enough  against  the  morality  of  English 
society  of  the  mid-eighteenth  century,  the  gravest  charge 
against  that  society  is  not  that  it  was  immoral,  but  that 
it  was  irreligious.  The  majority  of  the  English  people 
were  then,  as  they  always  have  been,  decent  and  virtu- 
ous folk;  but  they  were  not  religious.  The  religious 
man  is  the  man  filled  with  a  sense  of  the  presence  of 
God  and  of  the  force  of  spiritual  laws  here  and  7ioiu, 
convinced  of  an  immediate  relation  between  himself 
and  the  Supreme  Being.  This  and  this  only  makes  a 
truly  religious  man  in  any  age  and  in  any  country.   And 


THE   EARLY  WORK  79 

this  is  precisely  what  we  do  not  find  in  the  men  of  this 
eighteenth  century.  There  were  scores  of  deaneries 
and  hundreds  of  rectories  all  over  the  land  that  were 
the  abode  of  a  sincere  and  comely  churchmanship ;  but 
even  the  best  men,  men  like  Addison  or  Bishop  Gibson 
and  Bishop  Butler,  indubitably  sincere  men,  were  not 
in  this  highest  sense  religious.  The  test  of  excellence, 
for  the  eighteenth  century,  in  religion  as  well  as  in  poli- 
tics, art,  literature,  was  reason,  moderation,  good  sense. 
Everything  was  required  to  justify  itself  before  the  logi- 
cal intellect.  Religion  must,  first  of  all,  be  rational, 
free  from  superstition  and  from  fanaticism.  There 
were,  moreover,  reasons  why  this  temper  of  the  age 
should  show  itself  especially  in  religion.  The  heats  of 
controversy  ever  since  the  Reformation  in  England  had 
wearied  people  of  all  pronounced  expression  of  religious 
opinion.  The  reaction  against  Puritanism  at  the  time 
of  the  Restoration  had  not  been  followed  by  any  very 
general  decline  of  morality,  but  it<  had  produced  a  dis- 
trust of  all  lofty  ideals  in  politics  and  in  religion.  We 
have  had  enough,  men  said,  of  New  Lights  and  New 
Models;  now  let  us  follow  our  reason  like  men  of 
sense.  They  were  afraid,  above  all  things,  of  extrava- 
gant pretensions,  of  anything  that  savored  of  enthusi- 
asm. The  very  word  "Zeal"  was  a  red  rag  to  all  Eng- 
lishmen for  seventy-five  years.  It  is  said  that  the  two 
texts  on  which  most  sermons  were  preached  in  England 
during  the  first  half  of  the  eighteenth  century  were,  "Let 
your  moderation  be  known  to  all  men,"  and  "Be  not 
righteous  overmuch."  The  school  of  Deists  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  century  had  attacked  Christianity  as 
irrational;  the  Churchmen  who  defended  it  had  been 
so  anxious  to  prove  it  rational  that  they  had  left  little 


8o  JOHN   WESLEY 

supernatural  in  it.  Great  stress  was  laid  on  the  moral 
evidences  of  Christianity  and  its  harmony  with  natural 
religion ;  very  little  was  said  as  to  its  distinctively  divine 
and  supernatural  warrant.  The  older  and  more  evan- 
gelical language  fell  into  disuse,  or  was  used  with  little 
of  its  olden  meaning.  There  was  a  special  dread  of 
any  statements  that  seemed  to  depreciate  the  reason 
or  to  substitute  individual  emotional  experiences  for 
rational  proof.  This  distrust  was  felt  very  keenly  by 
some  of  the  most  devout  Churchmen,  and  explains  their 
sincere  opposition  to  the  teaching  of  Wesley  and  his 
preachers.  Bishop  Butler,  whose  ''Analogy"  had  just 
been  published,  said  to  Wesley  as  he  was  beginning  his 
Bristol  preaching  in  the  spring  of  1739,  "Sir,  the  pre- 
tending to  extraordinary  revelations  and  gifts  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  is  a  horrid  thing,  a  very  horrid  thing." 

Yet  the  orthodox  churchmanship  of  England  at  that 
moment  needed  nothing  so  much  as  that  intimate  per- 
sonal assurance  of  spiritual  verities  which  it  timidly 
branded  as  enthusiasm.  Its  belief  was  an  uncertain  bal- 
ance of  probabilities.  Its  motives  were  at  bottom  pru- 
dential. Its  preachers  were  denouncing  the  "folly"  of 
an  evil  life,  and  exhorting  their  hearers  to  make  the 
best  of  both  worlds.  Such  a  religion  could  not  speak 
with  authority.  It  could  not  touch  the  deeper  springs 
of  action.  It  might  be  discussed,  believed,  even  prac- 
tised; to  talk  of  "experiencing"  it  would  be  meaning- 
less. Moreover,  a  religion  with  so  little  of  the  conta- 
gious warmth  of  certainty  could  make  no  converts, 
could  stir  no  missionary  impulse.  "What  is  your  reli- 
gion, my  lord?"  some  one  asked  Lord  Bolingbroke. 
"  The  religion  of  all  sensible  men,"  was  the  reply.  "Yes, 
but  what  is  that?"     "Ah,  that  is  what  no  sensible  man 


THE   EARLY  WORK  8i 

ever  tells."  The  anecdote  is  told  of  different  persons, 
and  may  be  apocryphal;  but  it  illustrates  well  enough 
the  limited  and  individual  character  of  the  convictions 
most  men  held  upon  religious  subjects.  It  is  clear  that 
the  religion  of  the  time  had  little  hold  upon  the  lives 
even  of  those  who  professed  it.  Party  politics  had 
gathered  about  it;  its  solemn  observances  had  been 
made  the  condition  of  admission  to  civil  office.  A 
prime  minister  could  take  the  sacrament  in  St.  Paul's 
to  qualify  for  office,  and  then  go  home  to  write  an  essay 
against  the  credibility  of  revealed  religion.  The  bitter 
irony  of  men  like  Dean  Swift  and  the  despairing  pro- 
test of  men  like  Bishop  Butler  alike  attest  that  the  spirit 
and  power  of  religion  seemed  to  them  well-nigh  worn 
out  of  the  country.  Most  people  simply  didn't  think 
about  it.  With  the  more  reflective  class  a  cold  and 
shallow  optimism,  like  that  in  the  writings  of  Pope  and 
Bolingbroke,  took  the  place  of  faith  in  God  and  love 
to  man.  Such  words  as  sin,  and  sorrow,  and  love  were 
not  in  their  vocabulary.  The  world  was  full  of  evils, 
doubtless,  they  said,  but  the  philosopher  will  not  mag- 
nify them.  No  extravagant  desire,  no  enervating  sym- 
pathy ;  either  one  savors  of  enthusiasm.  It  may  not  be 
the  best  of  all  possible  worlds ;  but,  at  all  events,  we  can 
make  the  best  of  it. 

"  The  world  is  very  ill,  we  see, 

We  do  not  comprehend  it : 
But  in  one  point  we  all  agree  — 

God  won't,  —  and  we  can't,  mend  it. 
Being  common  sense  it  can't  be  sin 

To  take  it  as  I  find  it ; 
The  pleasure,  to  take  pleasure  in. 

The  pain  —  try  not  to  mind  it." 

These  lines  of  a  modern  poet  ^  might  not  inaccurately 

G  1  Arthur  Hugh  Clough. 


82  JOHN   WESLEY 

express  the  temper  of  thousands  upon  thousands  of 
decent  and  virtuous  folk  when  Wesley  began  his  work. 
On  the  baser  classes,  not  so  decent  or  virtuous,  neither 
the  promises  nor  the  warnings  of  Christianity  seemed 
to  have  any  influence. 

Such  was  the  world  in  which  John  Wesley  began  his 
preaching  in  1739.  He  remained  in  Bristol  until  the 
middle  of  June,  and  for  two  years  thereafter  divided  his 
time  mostly  between  that  city  and  London.  With  his 
methodical  habits,  he  formed  a  plan  of  work  in  Bristol 
which  occupied  him  almost  every  hour  for  every  day  in 
the  week.  Every  morning  he  read  prayers  in  a  chapel 
at  Newgate;  in  the  evening  he  expounded  the  Scrip- 
tures in  some  one  of  the  "Societies,"  of  which  there 
were  several  in  Bristol.  He  had  a  schedule  of  appoint- 
ments to  preach  in  the  open  air,  every  afternoon,  in 
places  in  or  near  Bristol,  and  on  Sundays  he  usually 
preached  five  times.  Thus  he  preached  on  an  average 
twelve  times  a  week,  besides  speaking  in  the  Societies. 
It  is  estimated  that  he  preached  over  five  hundred 
times  in  the  last  nine  months  of  that  year,  and  only 
five  times  in  churches.  He  built  a  chapel  in  the  Horse 
Fair,  near  the  centre  of  Bristol,  which  would  provide  a 
convenient  meeting-place  for  two  of  the  largest  societies, 
and  serve  as  a  headquarters  for  Methodist  work  in  the 
city.  He  had  intended  to  vest  the  ownership  of  the 
chapel  in  eleven  trustees;  but  on  being  advised  by 
Whitefield  and  other  friends  that  this  might  put  the 
building  altogether  out  of  his  control,  he  changed  his 
mind,  and  with  the  consent  of  the  trustees,  cancelled 
the  deed,  and  had  the  title  of  the  property  vested  in  him- 
self.    It  was  the  mode  of  procedure  usually  followed  in 


THE   EARLY  WORK  83 

similar  cases  through  all  the  earlier  years  of  his  preach- 
ing, so  that  in  the  next  twenty  years  he  became  sole 
proprietor  of  scores  of  Methodist  Chapels  all  over  the 
island.  Interested  as  he  always  was  in  the  education 
of  the  people,  he  carried  through  a  plan  proposed  by 
Whitefield  to  establish  a  school  at  Kingswood  for  the 
children  of  the  poor  colliers.  Wesley  secured  money, 
erected  a  building,  and  opened  the  school  early  in  1 740. 
He  enlarged  Whitefield 's  plan  by  providing  instruction 
evenings  and  in  the  early  morning  hours  for  colliers 
who  were  obliged  to  be  in  the  pits  all  day. 

In  the  meantime,  before  midsummer  of  1739,  White- 
field's  open-air  preaching  in  London  had  become  the 
sensation  of  the  town.  His  audiences  were  even  vaster 
than  they  had  been  in  Bristol;  and  he  was  listened  to 
with  equal  admiration  by  the  great  folk  at  Blackheath 
and  the  lowest  London  populace  in  Moorfields.  The 
concourse  in  the  latter  place  is  said  on  some  occasions 
to  have  numbered  no  fewer  than  sixty  thousand;  and 
Whitefield  himself  states  in  his  diary  that  he  once 
preached  at  Hyde  Park  Corner  to  the  incredibly  large 
audience  of  eighty  thousand  persons.  When  he  spoke 
on  Kennington  Common  there  were  not  boats  enough 
on  the  Thames  to  carry  over  the  crowds  that  flocked 
thither.  Inevitably  there  was  criticism  and  opposition. 
The  Methodists  were  charged  with  disturbing  public 
order,  with  turning  worship  into  tumult  and  riot.  It  is 
said  that  Whitefield' s  audiences,  however  large,  always 
listened  to  him  attentively;  indeed,  they  must  have  lis- 
tened if  they  heard  anything.  Yet  such  vast  crowds  in 
the  open  air,  made  up  largely  of  people  not  accustomed 
to  keep  their  emotions  under  restraint  and  now  swayed 
by  the  most  dramatic  of  orators,  could  hardly  be  ex- 


84  JOHN  WESLEY 

pected  to  observe  a  churchly  decorum.  It  is  not  strange 
that  this  mode  of  preaching,  which  until  very  lately  had 
seemed  to  Wesley  an  inexcusable  violation  of  the  rev- 
erent proprieties  of  worship,  should  be  bitterly  opposed 
by  most  of  the  clergy.  Whitefield  did  not  use  the  lit- 
urgy; his  prayers  were  extemporaneous;  and  he  cer- 
tainly employed  in  the  delivery  of  his  sermons  all  the 
arts  both  of  the  actor  and  the  popular  orator.  He  was 
indubitably  sincere  and  intensely  in  earnest ;  but  many 
candid  people,  churchmen  and  dissenters,  in  sympathy 
with  his  purposes,  had  to  admit  that  they  could  find 
but  little  content  of  clear  and  sound  thought  in  his  ser- 
mons, and  that  he  frequently  allowed  himself  violent  or 
extravagant  language  unbecoming  in  a  preacher  of  the 
Gospel.  The  good  Dr.  Doddridge,  who  heard  him  on 
Kennington  Common,  thought  him  a  sincere,  "but  a 
weak  man  —  much  too  positive,  says  rash  things,  and  is 
bold  and  enthusiastic.  I  think  what  he  says  and  does 
come  but  little  short  of  an  assumption  of  inspiration  or 
infallibility."  And  Dr.  Watts,  in  an  interview  with  the 
eloquent  young  field  preacher  in  August  of  this  year, 
felt  it  necessary  to  warn  him  against  the  irregularities 
and  imprudences  which  youth  and  zeal  might  lead  him 
into.  In  truth,  the  permanent  measurable  results  of 
Whitefield's  preaching  seem  to  have  been  disproportion- 
ate to  its  temporary  influence.  It  was  of  incalculable 
value  in  turning  the  serious  attention  of  so  many  thou- 
sands to  matters  of  religion;  yet  when  one  considers 
how  vast  were  the  multitudes  that  followed  to  hear  the 
preacher,  one  is  surprised  to  find  no  evidence  that  any 
considerable  number  of  them  joined  the  churches  or 
any  of  the  religious  societies  in  London.  Whitefield 
was  a  preacher  and  little  else ;   he  had  not  the  gift  to 


THE  EARLY  WORK  85 

confirm  and  teach  and  shepherd  his  converts.  In  this 
respect,  as  in  many  others,  he  was  in  striking  contrast 
with  Wesley. 

It  was  this  very  superiority  of  Wesley  as  teacher  and 
pastor,  however,  that  specially  exposed  him  to  ecclesi- 
astical censure.  He  was  doing  the  work  that,  in  a  very 
special  sense,  belonged  to  the  parish  priest.  Bishop 
Butler  said  to  him  in  Bristol,  ''Sir,  since  you  ask  my 
advice,  I  will  give  it  freely — you  have  no  business  here; 
you  are  not  commissioned  to  preach  in  this  diocese. 
Therefore  I  advise  you  to  go  hence."  Samuel  Wesley, 
who  could  not  bring  himself  to  approve  the  action  of 
his  brothers,  only  a  few  days  before  his  death  wrote 
to  his  mother:  "My  brothers  design  separation.  They 
are  already  forbidden  all  the  pulpits  in  London ;  and  to 
preach  in  that  diocese  is  actual  schism.  In  all  likeli- 
hood it  will  come  to  the  same  all  over  England,  if  the 
bishops  have  courage  enough.  ...  As  I  told  Jack, 
I  am  not  afraid  the  Church  should  excommunicate  him 
(discipline  is  at  too  low  an  ebb),  but  that  he  should  ex- 
communicate the  Church.  It  is  pretty  near  it."  It  is 
idle  to  deny  that  the  conduct  of  Wesley  and  Whitefield 
was  irregular.  There  was  no  provision  in  the  polity  of 
the  Church  of  England  for  such  work  as  they  were  do- 
ing. To  preach  in  the  fields,  to  abridge  or  abandon  the 
liturgy,  to  organize  within  the  parishes  of  Church  of  Eng- 
land priests  "societies"  and  "bands,"  fashioned  after  a 
Moravian  model  and  governed  by  rules  of  their  own 
devising,  to  persist  in  teaching  which,  whether  in  har- 
mony with  the  doctrines  of  the  Church  or  not,  was  dis- 
approved and  disavowed  by  the  bishops  of  the  dioceses 
where  they  taught,  —  all  this  was  certainly  in  disregard, 
if  not  in  defiance,  of  ecclesiastical  order  and  discipline. 


86  JOHN   WESLEY 

Wesley's  only  defence  was  that  he  must  obey  God 
rather  than  man.  He  had  no  thought  of  leaving  the 
Church  and  no  wish  to  violate  its  discipline.  The  doc- 
trines he  taught  were,  he  claimed,  only  those  which  the 
Church  of  England  had  always  professed,  but  now  for- 
gotten. His  violations  of  discipline  were  forced  upon 
him ;  he  preached  in  the  fields  only  because  he  was  not 
allowed  to  preach  anywhere  else.  In  a  letter  written 
in  the  summer  of  1739  to  a  friend  who  charged  him 
with  intermeddling  ''with  souls  that  did  not  belong  to 
him,"  he  states  his  position  at  length  and  with  much 
feeling :  — 

"God  in  Scripture  commands  me  according  to  my 
power  to  instruct  the  ignorant,  reform  the  wicked, 
confirm  the  virtuous.  Man  forbids  me  to  do  this  in 
another's  parish ;  that  is,  in  effect  to  do  it  at  all :  seeing 
I  have  now  no  parish  of  my  own,  nor  probably  ever 
shall.  Whom  then  shall  I  hear:  God  or  Man?  .  .  „ 
I  look  upon  the  world  as  my  parish ;  thus  far,  I  mean, 
that,  in  whatever  part  of  it  I  am,  I  judge  it  meet, 
right,  and  my  bounden  duty  to  declare  unto  all  that  are 
willing  to  hear  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation." 

It  was  the  misfortune  of  the  Church  that  its  authori- 
ties could  not  perceive  the  sore  need  at  that  time  of 
just  such  a  man  as  this ;  that  they  could  not  overlook 
any  extravagances  or  minor  errors  for  the  sake  of  that 
assured  faith  and  intense  devotion  which  could  put  new 
warmth  and  vigor  into  the  Church  and  lead  thousands  of 
unchurched  people  into  a  righteous  and  pious  life. 

The  fear  of  fanatical  excitement  from  the  influence 
of  the  Methodists  was  heightened,  and  to  a  certain 
extent  justified,  by  a  series  of  singular  physical  effects 
attending  the  preaching  of  Wesley,  in  and  about  Bris- 


THE  EARLY  WORK  87 

tol,  during  this  summer.  At  the  meetings  in  societies 
or  in  private  houses,  scenes  Kke  the  following,  described 
in  the  Journal,  were  for  a  time  not  infrequent :  — 

^^ April  21.  At  Weaver's  Hall  a  young  man  was  sud- 
denly seized  with  violent  trembling  all  over,  and  in  a 
few  moments  sank  to  the  ground.  But  we  ceased  not 
calling  upon  God,  till  he  raised  him  up  full  of  peace 
and  joy." 

^^ May  21.  In  the  evening  I  was  interrupted  at  Nicho- 
las Street  almost  as  soon  as  I  had  begun  to  speak  by 
the  cries  of  one  who  was  pricked  at  the  heart  and 
strongly  groaned  for  pardon  and  peace.  Yet  I  went  on 
to  declare  what  God  had  already  done  in  proof  of  that 
important  truth  that  he  is  'not  willing  that  any  should 
perish,  but  that  all  should  come  to  repentance.'  An- 
other person  dropped  down,  close  to  one  who  was  a 
strong  assertor  of  the  contrary  doctrine.  While  he 
stood  astonished  at  the  sight,  a  little  boy  near  him  was 
seized  in  the  same  manner.  A  young  man  who  stood 
up  behind  fixed  his  eyes  on  him,  and  sank  down  him- 
self as  one  dead ;  but  soon  began  to  roar  out,  and  beat 
himself  against  the  ground,  so  that  six  men  could 
scarcely  hold  him.     His  name  was  Thomas  Maxfield." 

''June  22.  In  the  society  one  before  me  dropped 
down  as  dead,  and  presently  a  second,  and  a  third. 
Five  others  sank  down  in  half  an  hour ;  most  of  whom 
were  in  violent  agonies.  In  their  trouble  we  called  upon 
the  Lord  and  he  gave  us  an  answer  of  peace." 

About  sixty  such  cases  of  physical  prostration,  some 
few  painful  and  prolonged,  but  most  of  short  duration, 
are  recorded  in  the  Journal.  In  some  instances  such 
symptoms  may  have  been  simulated,  and  in  many 
more  the  hysterical  excitement  may  have  been  half- 


88  JOHN  WESLEY  \ 

unconsciously  welcomed  by  the  subject  as  a  sign  of 
genuine  repentance.  It  is  significant  that  when  Charles 
Wesley,  on  one  occasion,  announced  before  beginning 
his  sermon,  that  any  "stricken  down"  during  the 
preaching  would  be  quietly  removed  from  the  room,  no 
one  was  stricken.  Yet  most  of  the  cases  recorded  in 
the  Journal  are  indubitably  genuine.  The  careful 
reader  will  notice,  however,  that  the  seizures  seldom 
occurred  at  any  of  Wesley's  services  in  the  open  air, 
but  generally,  though  not  always,  in  small  and  crowded 
rooms;  and  that  they  were  nearly  all  confined  to  the 
vicinity  of  Bristol,  and  to  a  period  of  a  few  months  in 
the  summer  of  1739.  It  is  not  true  that  they  charac- 
terized the  Methodist  movement,  or  that  they  accom- 
panied the  preaching  of  Wesley  throughout  his  career  ;j 
indeed,  they  were  not  experienced  by  any  considerable 
number  of  his  converts  even  in  that  year.  It  is  singular 
that  no  such  results  attended  the  preaching  of  White- 
field,  though  far  more  impassioned  than  Wesley's. 
Whitefield,  in  fact,  wrote  to  expostulate  with  Wesley 
for  encouraging  such  physical  manifestations.  But 
Wesley  never  did  encourage  them.  Nor  was  his 
preaching  drastic  and  minatory;  he  did  not  terrify 
people  with  lurid  pictures  of  future  punishment;  on 
the  contrary,  it  is  evident  from  the  Journal  that  his 
preaching  was  concerned  almost  entirely  with  the  invi- 
tations and  promises  of  the  Gospel.  Yet  while  Wesley 
was  less  eloquent  than  Whitefield,  he  spoke  by  prefer- 
ence, not  like  Whitefield  to  vast  audiences,  but  to 
a  small  company  gathered  immediately  about  him. 
Whitefield  sought  to  sway  a  multitude  as  one  man; 
Wesley  sought  to  influence  immediately  individual  men. 
It  is  evident  that  his  calm  and  simple  but  direct  and 


THE   EARLY  WORK  89 

intense  address  must  have  been  very  impressive.  He 
expected  that  men  who  came  to  hear  him  as  drunkards, 
thieves,  brawlers,  would  go  away  converted  —  thence- 
forth to  be  pious  and  righteous  men.  And  they  did, 
by  hundreds.  Preaching  like  Wesley's  had  not  been 
heard  in  England  for  near  a  century ;  and  it  is  not  at 
all  strange  that  it  should  have  been  sometimes  attended 
by  such  physical  phenomena  as  have  always  been  fre- 
quent in  periods  of  strong  emotional  excitement.  And 
if  these  phenomena  do  not  prove  the  teaching  that 
seems  to  occasion  them  to  be  true,  they  certainly  do 
not  prove  it  to  be  false  or  even  fanatical. 

Wesley  himself  undoubtedly  believed  these  strange 
experiences  to  be  due  to  supernatural  influence,  some- 
times divine,  sometimes  diabolical,  and  sometimes  with 
a  curious  logic,  he  seems  to  ascribe  them  to  both.     Yet 
he  was  careful  not  to  vouch  for  their  supernatural  char- 
acter.    He  says:  "I  relate  just  what  I  saw.     Some  of 
the  circumstances   seem   to   go   beyond   the   ordinary 
course  of  nature.     But  I  do  not  peremptorily  deter- 
mine whether  they  were  supernatural  or  not.     Much 
less  do  I  rest  upon  them  either  the  proof  of  other  facts, 
or  of  the  doctrines  which  I  preached."     To  his  brother 
Samuel,  who  was  much  disturbed  by  what  he  heard  of 
John's  preaching,  he  wrote  protesting  that  his  work 
should  not  be  judged  by  any  such  strange  physical  ac- 
companiments, whatever  be  their  cause,  but  rather  by 
the  fact  that  in  hundreds  of  instances,  in  his  meetings, 
the  lion  had  been  changed  to  the  lamb,  the  drunkard 
to  the  sober  man,  the  spirit  of  despair  to  the  spirit  of 
hope  and  peace.     These,  he  says,  justly,  are  my  "liv- 
ing arguments." 

The  truth  is,  Wesley's  own  temperament  was  so  cool 


90  JOHN  WESLEY 

and  self-possessed  that  he  often  overestimated  the  sig- 
nificance of  emotion  in  hearers  of  a  more  unrestrained 
disposition.  He  measured  these  outward  expressions  by 
the  strength  of  the  causes  he  knew  would  have  been 
necessary  to  produce  them  in  himself.  It  is  quite  true 
that  only  something  very  like  a  miracle  could  ever  have 
made  him  fall  in  convulsions,  or  lose  in  any  wise  his 
self-control;  he  did  not  realize  that  the  average  man, 
without  culture  and  the  restraint  that  comes  of  long 
obedience  to  the  conventions  of  society,  can  be  violently 
moved  without  any  very  unusual  agency. 

In  August  of  1739,  Whitefield  left  England  for  an- 
other visit  to  America.  After  this  Wesley  naturally 
found  it  necessary  to  be  oftener  in  London,  though  his 
brother  Charles  was  in  an  especial  sense  in  charge  of 
the  work  there,  and  w^as  recognized  as  the  pastor  of  the 
Moravians  and  Methodists  of  London.  Wesley  had  no 
thought  of  founding  a  new  sect,  or  building  up  any  elabo- 
rate religious  organization.  He  was  intent  only  on 
carrying  the  Gospel  everywhere,  and  especially  on  car- 
rying it  to  those  who  seemed  to  have  otherwise  little 
chance  of  hearing  it.  But  the  religious  movement 
which  was  now  beginning  to  have  influence  and  recog- 
nition —  friendly  or  hostile  —  over  a  great  part  of  the 
south  of  England,  evidently  needed  some  direction  and 
control.  Hundreds  of  people  were  beginning  a  reli- 
gious life  who  had  never  seen  the  inside  of  a  church, 
and  with  whom  the  regular  parish  clergy  had  little  sym- 
pathy. It  was  important  that  they  should  have  some 
uniform  and  intelligent  teaching,  and  some  sort  of  help- 
ful religious  association.  Little  by  little,  without  in- 
tending to  make  or  to  assume  any  such  position,  Wesley 


THE  EARLY   WORK  91 

found  himself  coming  to  the  leadership  of  a  definite, 
closely  centralized  organization. 

The  first  step  toward  such  an  organization  was  the 
separation  of  the  Methodists  from  the  Moravians.  The 
Fetter  Lane  Society,  as  we  have  seen,  was  originally 
composed  largely  of  Moravians,  and  their  doctrine 
and  discipline  provoked  at  first  no  dissent  from  the  other 
members.  But  as  the  number  of  members  increased 
from  the  preaching  of  the  Wesleys  and  Whitefield,  there 
began  to  be  discord.  This  tendency  was  increased 
when  a  Moravian  pastor  from  Jena,  named  Molther, 
appeared  on  the  scene  late  in  1739  and  attempted  to 
impose  his  views  upon  the  society.  Molther  advocated 
a  pronounced  form  of  quietism.  If  the  brethren  had 
not  yet  received  the  desired  gift  of  faith,  —  and  he  in- 
duced many  of  them  to  be  in  doubt  of  it,  —  they  were 
instructed  to  wait  for  it  in  quiet.  Molther  discouraged 
all  active  effort,  all  use  of  the  "means  of  grace."  Indeed, 
there  were,  he  said,  no  means  of  grace,  grace  being  the 
immediate  gift  of  God.  Reading  the  Scriptures,  speak- 
ing or  exhortation,  even  prayer  and  the  Lord's  Supper, 
were  means  on  which  the  soul  might  come  to  depend,  and 
so  were  not  helps  but  hindrances  to  the  attainment  of 
faith ;  while  the  confirmed  believer  was  at  liberty  to  use 
these  and  any  other  religious  ordinances  and  exercises, 
but  equally  at  liberty  not  to  use  them.  To  Wesley  such 
doctrine  as  this  was  a  dangerous  heresy.  Whatever 
theories  of  Christian  experience  he  may  have  held  at 
various  times,  his  test  of  the  religious  life  was  always 
outward  and  practical.  He  could  have  little  patience, 
therefore,  with  teaching  that  seemed  to  cut  the  nerve  of 
all  useful  activity,  and  to  enjoin  an  attitude  of  passive 
expectancy  or  enjoyment.     And   any  sympathy  with 


92  JOHN  WESLEY 

this  quietism  was  doubly  impossible  for  him  now  that 
he  had  entered  upon  his  more  active  evangelistic  work. 
The  Moravians,  on  the  other  hand,  looked  with  dislike 
on  the  public  and  aggressive  methods  of  Whitefield 
and   the  Wesleys,   and    disapproved    the    tumult  and 
physical  excitement  that  accompanied  their  preaching. 
Moreover,  they  were  jealous  of  the  predominance  of 
the  Wesleys  in  the  Fetter  Lane  Society,  and  charged 
them  with  arrogance  and  self-seeking.     Alarmed  at  the 
growing  differences  in  the  Fetter  Lane  Society,  Wesley 
came  up  to  London  in  June  with  the  hope  to  compose 
them.     But  his  efforts  then,  and  during  longer  visits  in 
the  course  of  the  next  year,  were  of  little  avail.    Many  of 
his  converts,  who  had  been  devout  and  active,  now,  under 
the  Moravian  influence,  had  come  to  doubt  whether 
they  were  ever  in  the  faith,  and  were  disposed  to  "be 
still"  till  they  found  out.     They  not  only  gave  up  the 
ordinances  of  religion  themselves,  but  persuaded  others 
to  do  so,  and  shocked  Wesley  by  talking  of  "the  folly  of 
running  about  to  church  and  sacrament."     The  meet- 
ings of  the  society  were  either  disputatious  or  dull  and 
lifeless.     "Nothing  of   brotherly  love   among  them," 
says  Wesley  of  one  evening,  "but  a  harsh,  dry,  heavy, 
stupid  spirit.     For  two  hours  they  looked  one  at  an- 
other, when  they  looked  up  at  all,  as  if  one-half  of  them 
was  afraid  of  the  other."     Molther,  who  since  his  ar- 
rival had  learned  to  preach  in  tolerable  English,  in  the 
spring  of  1740  practically  assumed  the  leadership  of 
the  society.     He  was   earnest  and  conscientious,  but 
more  arrogant  than  became  his  years  and  knowledge, 
and  he  at  once  assumed,  as  Bohler  had  done,  the  supe- 
rior  attitude   toward   Wesley  of   spiritual   counsellor. 
But  Wesley  had  learned  much  for  himself  in  the  past 


THE  EARLY  WORK  93 

year,  and  was  not  likely  to  take  the  position  of  humble 
disciple  before  this  young  divinity  student.  They  had 
two  long  conferences,  in  which,  as  might  have  been 
expected,  they  did  little  but  to  reaffirm  with  greater 
emphasis  each  his  own  opinions.  Wesley  labored  by 
preaching  and  by  private  counsel  and  expostulation  to 
check  the  heresy;  but  the  Molther  faction  was  too 
strong  within  the  society,  and  at  last,  at  the  middle  of 
July,  1740,  he  was  informed  that  he  could  no  longer 
preach  in  the  Fetter  Lane  rooms.  The  next  Sunday 
evening,  at  the  close  of  the  love  feast,  he  rose  in  his 
place  and  read  a  paper  in  which  he  had  set  down 
briefly  the  points  at  issue  between  himself  and  his  Mo- 
ravian brethren ;  and  after  protesting  that  he  had  done 
all  in  his  power  to  convince  them  of  their  error,  solemnly 
declared  that  he  must  withdraw  from  them,  and  invited 
any  like  minded  to  accompany  him.  Without  another 
word  he  left  the  room,  and  eighteen  or  nineteen  fol- 
lowed him.  From  that  hour  the  Moravian  and  the 
Methodist  movement  were  separate.  One  must  regret 
a  sharp  difference  between  bodies  of  Christians  who 
had  so  much  in  common.  Yet  the  separation,  one  can 
now  see,  was  sure  to  come  sooner  or  later,  and  it  was 
fortunate  for  Methodism.  It  is  probably  true,  as  Wes- 
ley claimed,  that  the  doctrines  of  Molther  and  his  sup- 
porters were  not  sanctioned  by  the  general  authorities 
of  the  Moravian  Church ;  but  the  genus  of  Moravian- 
ism  and  that  of  Methodism  were  essentially  different. 
The  tendency  to  isolation  and  clannishness,  the  intro- 
spection and  overemphasis  upon  inner  spiritual  states, 
the  insistence  upon  quiet  and  distrust  of  active  evan- 
gelical effort,  —  all  these  characteristics  of  the  Mora- 
vian  temper   would    have    ill    suited  with    the  work 


94  JOHN  WESLEY 

Wesley  and  his  preachers  had  to  do  in  the  next  half- 
century. 

The  '^ eighteen  or  nineteen"  who  withdrew  with  John 
Wesley  from  the  Fetter  Lane  Society  found  another 
and  yet  more  memorable  society  waiting  to  receive 
them.  Near  the  close  of  1 739,  eight  or  ten  persons  ear- 
nestly desirous  of  leading  a  religious  life  came  to  Wes- 
ley, who  was  then  in  London,  with  a  request  that  he 
would  meet  them  regularly  for  prayer  and  counsel.  He 
agreed  to  do  so,  as  long  as  possible,  and  named  Thurs- 
day evening  as  the  time  for  such  meeting.  As  he  says, 
in  telling  the  story,  "The  first  evening  about  twelve 
persons  came;  the  next  week  thirty  or  forty.  When 
they  were  increased  to  about  a  hundred,  I  took  down 
their  names  and  places  of  abode,  intending,  as  often 
as  it  was  convenient,  to  call  upon  them  at  their  houses. 
Thus,  without  any  previous  plan,  began  the  Methodist 
Society  in  England,  —  a  company  of  people  associating 
together  to  help  each  other  to  work  out  their  own  salva- 
tion." 

This  was  the  first  of  those  United  Societies,  which 
were  the  units  of  the  great  Methodist  organization  that 
was  soon  to  spread  over  the  island.  This  society  found, 
almost  as  soon  as  it  was  formed,  a  place  of  meeting 
which  was  to  become  famous  in  the  annals  of  Method- 
ism. In  the  autumn  of  1739  the  weather  was  unusu- 
ally cold,  and  Wesley,  who  had  been  preaching  in  the 
open  air,  accepted  the  invitation  of  two  gentlemen  in 
London,  then  unknown  to  him,  that  he  should  preach 
one  November  Sunday  in  a  building  then  unused  and 
vacant.  Thirty  years  before,  an  accidental  explosion 
had  wrecked  this  building,  in  which  cannon  were  then 


THE  EARLY  WORK  95 

being  cast  for  the  government,  blowing  off  the  roof,  and 
killing  several  workmen.  The  authorities  then  decided 
to  remove  the  ordnance  works  to  Woolwich,  and  left  this 
old  Foundery  in  ruins.  This  was  the  gaunt  and  ruinous 
structure  in  which  Wesley  preached,  and  which  he  de- 
cided shortly  after  to  purchase  and  refit  as  a  preaching 
place  and  centre  for  his  work  in  London,  such  as  he 
had  recently  secured  in  Bristol.  Money  was  borrowed 
to  be  repaid  by  subscriptions  as  fast  as  possible ;  some 
partial  repairs  were  made  to  render  the  place  habitable, 
and  it  was  at  once  put  to  use  for  preaching  and  the 
meetings  of  the  society.  It  stood  on  Windmill  Street, 
near  Finsbury  Square,  in  a  region  where  Wesley  had 
frequently  preached.  When  the  alterations  and  re- 
pairs were  completed  it  furnished  a  preaching  room 
with  benches  on  the  floor  and  in  the  galleries  running 
round  the  sides,  that  would  accommodate  some  fifteen 
hundred  people.  The  men  sat  in  the  side  galleries 
and  on  one  side  of  the  main  floor,  the  women  on  the 
other  side  and  in  the  front  gallery.  Behind  this  room 
there  was  a  "band  room"  seating  some  three  hundred. 
One  end  of  this  room  was  seated,  with  desks,  for  a 
school ;  at  the  other  end  was  an  office  or  "Book  Room" 
where  Wesley's  publications  were  sold.  On  the  second 
story,  over  the  band  room,  apartments  were  fitted  up 
for  Wesley's  use,  and  here  his  mother  passed  her  last 
years.  An  adjoining  house  was  used  for  Wesley's  as- 
sistants. Chapel,  band  room,  parsonage,  school,  book 
store,  dispensary,  loan  office  —  this  building  was  for 
thirty-eight  years  the  headquarters  of  Methodism  and 
centre  of  all  its  varied  forms  of  religious  and  charitable 
work.  And  almost  every  day,  through  all  those  years, 
its  little  bell  called  London  Methodists  to  some  service 


96  JOHN  WESLEY 

of  prayer  or  praise  or  preaching.  This  was  the  home 
of  the  society  to  which  those  who  had  withdrawn  from 
Fetter  Lane  now  joined  themselves. 

The  London  Society,  reenforced  by  these  seceders 
from  Fetter  Lane,  and  free  from  the  dissensions  of  the 
last  year,  now  grew  rapidly;  by  the  close  of  1741  it 
numbered  more  than  a  thousand  members.  Meantime 
a  similar  organization  was  being  effected  in  Bristol. 
There  were  in  that  city  when  Wesley  first  visited  it  sev- 
eral small  societies ;  it  was  for  the  special  use  of  two  of 
them  that  he  had  built  the  Horse  Fair  Chapel.  The 
other  Methodists  in  Bristol  were  now  united  with  these 
into  one  society,  like  that  in  London,  meeting  in  the 
new  chapel.  The  Kingswood  people  formed  a  society 
by  themselves,  meeting  in  their  schoolhouse.  These, 
with  one  formed  about  this  time  in  Bath,  were  the  only 
societies  formally  organized  up  to  the  end  of  1740. 

Persons  were  admitted  to  these  societies  only  by  Wes- 
ley and  his  brother  Charles,  and  were  given  "tickets," 
attesting  their  membership  and  good  standing.  These 
tickets  they  were  required  to  have  renewed  every  quar- 
ter. Members  idle  or  disorderly,  or  proving  to  be 
indifferent  to  a  religious  life,  after  warning  and  exhor- 
tation, were  dropped.  Thus  at  first  the  Wesleys  main- 
tained a  direct  supervision  of  the  societies,  and  strove  to 
have  individual  knowledge  of  the  needs  and  the  con- 
duct of  all  their  members.  But  this  soon  became  im- 
possible. In  London  Wesley  soon  found  it  necessary 
to  appoint  certain  members  of  the  society  to  visit  the 
sick  and  the  poor,  and  to  report  weekly.  But  there 
was  evident  and  growing  need  of  some  more  constant 
and  detailed  religious  supervision  and  counsel  than  the 
Wesleys  could  possibly  give.     It  was  impossible  for 


THE  EARLY  WORK  97 

them  to  meet  personally,  even  once  a  quarter,  the  tv/o 
thousand  or  more  Methodists  scattered  through  London 
and  Bristol.  The  system  of  ''Classes"  which  met  this 
need  sprang  up  in  a  quite  unpremeditated  way ;  it  was 
not  a  device  but  a  fortunate  suggestion.  One  day 
early  in  1742,  the  Bristol  Society  were  discussing  means 
to  pay  the  debt  that  still  remained  on  their  chapel. 
One  of  the  members  proposed  that  every  one  should 
bring  a  penny  to  the  evening  meeting;  and  when  it 
was  objected  that  some  were  too  poor  to  give  even  that, 
he  volunteered  to  see  eleven  other  members,  during 
every  week,  and  collect  the  penny  where  it  could  be 
afforded.  Others  promised  to  do  the  same  thing,  and 
thus  the  membership  of  the  society  fell  into  groups  of 
twelve.  "Then,"  says  Wesley,  "it  struck  me  immedi- 
ately, this  is  the  very  thing  we  have  wanted  so  long." 
He  called  together  the  collectors,  or  "leaders,"  as  they 
were  thereafter  called,  and  asked  them  to  make  a 
weekly  report  upon  the  behavior  of  those  whom  they 
visited.  After  a  little  it  was  found  inconvenient  for  the 
leader  to  meet  the  members  of  his  group  at  their  own 
houses;  many  of  them,  being  apprentices  or  servants, 
had  no  houses  of  their  own.  It  was  arranged  that  they 
should  all  meet  him  weekly,  at  a  specified  hour  and 
place;  and  this  was  the  Methodist  "Class  Meeting." 
The  class  leaders  were  appointed  by  Wesley,  and  met 
him  at  least  once  a  quarter  to  give  a  detailed  report  of 
the  condition  of  those  intrusted  to  their  charge.  It  was 
largely  to  receive  these  reports,  and  to  give  to  the  lead- 
ers his  personal  counsel  and  oversight  that  Wesley,  in 
the  next  forty  years,  made  his  continual  journeyings 
from  one  end  of  England  to  the  other. 

This  plan  was  not  received  at  first  without  some 


98  JOHN  WESLEY 

natural  opposition.  Dissatisfied  members  claimed  that 
they  had  not  assented  to  any  such  supervision  when 
they  joined  the  societies;  that  they  themselves  had  no 
voice  in  the  election  or  dismissal  of  the  leaders;  that 
those  leaders  were  often  incompetent,  neither  wiser  nor 
better  than  those  they  assumed  to  lead.  But  Wesley 
replied  that  it  would  be  folly  to  refuse  to  adopt  so  good 
a  plan  simply  because  they  had  not  been  wise  enough 
to  think  of  it  earlier;  that  while  he  refused  to  intrust 
the  appointment  of  leaders  to  any  one  else,  he  was  always 
ready  to  hear  complaints  if  well  supported,  and  if  it 
seemed  necessary,  to  replace  unsatisfactory  leaders  by 
better  ones.  And  experience  amply  proved  Wesley  to 
be  right  in  his  estimate  of  the  value  of  the  class  meeting. 
It  is  difficult  to  conceive  a  form  of  association  more 
profitable  for  the  early  Methodists,  —  however  it  may 
be  for  the  later  ones,  —  more  likely  to  promote  a  prac- 
tical, everyday  religion,  than  this  meeting,  in  small 
groups,  of  people  of  similar  tastes,  occupation,  and  social 
position,  for  counsel  upon  all  matters  pertaining  to  the 
daily  conduct  of  life.  ,  And  Wesley  saw,  of  course,  that 
by  the  appointment  of  the  leaders  and  by  his  plan  of 
quarterly  visitation,  he  could  maintain  that  close  per- 
sonal supervision  of  all  the  societies  which  he  rightly 
deemed  necessary  to  the  unity  and  coherence  of  the 
movement  now  growing  so  rapidly.  Wesley  was  not 
ambitious;  never  man  had  less  of  the  selfish  lust  of 
power.  If  he  slowly  and  half  unconsciously  perfected 
.one  of  the  most  completely  centralized  ecclesiastical 
systems  ever  devised,  it  was  because  he  felt  himself 
deeply  responsible  for  the  instruction  and  guidance  of 
the  multitudes  converted  by  his  preaching,  and  found 
himself  left  almost  alone  to  care  for  them.     If  for  years 


THE  EARLY  WORK  99 

he  held  all  the  reins  of  power  in  his  own  hands,  it  was 
because  there  was  no  one  else  to  hold  them.  One  of 
the  greatest  administrators  that  ever  lived,  he  could 
touch  nothing  without  leaving  upon  it  the  stamp  of  his 
own  energetic  individuality;  but  he  did  nothing  from 
the  motive  of  personal  aggrandizement. 

One  thing  more  was  needed  to  complete  the  network 
of  Wesley's  institutions.  To  this  Wesley  soon  felt  him- 
self forced.  It  must  be  remembered  that  the  Metho- 
dist organization  was,  in  Wesley's  thought,  entirely 
within  the  English  Church.  His  societies  were  not, 
like  the  dissenting  bodies,  formed  to  provide  for  preach- 
ing and  the  administration  of  the  sacraments ;  they  were 
purely  private  associations  for  religious  culture.  It  is 
true,  as  we  have  seen,  that  Wesley  had  strained  ecclesi- 
astical discipline  rather  severely  by  forming  such  soci- 
eties without  any  reference  to  the  parochial  clergy  or 
episcopal  control,  requiring  of  their  members  no  formal 
recognition  of  the  Church,  and  building  meeting- 
houses for  their  use,  the  ownership  of  which  vested  in 
himself.  Yet  he  still  held  that  there  was  nothing  in 
their  constitution  or  usages  essentially  in  violation  of 
the  canons  of  the  Church.  The  societies  met  on  Sun- 
days, but  never  at  the  hours  of  church  service.  At 
these  meetings  there  was  preaching  if  Wesley  or  any 
other  clergyman  in  orders  was  present  and  would 
preach;  if  not,  the  hour  was  spent  in  prayer  and  reli- 
gious conference  and  exhortation.  But  by  the  end  of 
1740,  Wesley  and  his  brother  Charles  were  almost  the 
only  clergymen  in  London  or  Bristol  who  would  take 
part  with  the  Methodists.  Whitefield  was  in  America. 
Of  his  other  old  Oxford  friends  who  were  in  orders 


loo  JOHN  WESLEY 

Clayton,  the  High  Churchman,  now  resident  in  Man- 
chester, was  out  of  sympathy  with  Wesley,  Ingham 
was  in  Yorkshire  and  just  about  to  go  over  to  the  Mora- 
vians, whom  Gambold  had  already  joined.  The  in- 
creasing number  of  Methodists  were  left  largely  without 
the  ministrations  of  the  clergy.  Wesley  always  encour- 
aged them  to  attend  church  in  the  parishes  where  they 
resided,  and  some  of  the  London  society  did  communi- 
cate in  their  own  parishes ;  but  they  were  slow  to  pre- 
sent themselves  where  they  were  evidently  not  wel- 
come. In  the  autumn  of  1741,  Wesley  was  offered  by 
a  French  clergyman  the  use  of  his  small  church  in 
Wapping,  and  there  he  and  his  brother,  for  five  succes- 
sive Sundays,  administered  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's 
Supper  to  members  of  the  Foundery  Society,  over  a 
thousand  in  all.  Charles  Wesley  performed  the  same 
office  for  the  Kingswood  colliers  in  their  school  build- 
ing, and  declared,  good  Churchman  as  he  was,  that  if 
there  were  no  other  place  allowed,  he  would  have  ad- 
ministered that  Sacrament  in  the  open  air. 

Still  more  serious,  if  possible,  was  the  lack  of  author- 
ized teaching  and  preaching.  From  exhorting  before 
a  society  to  formal  preaching  before  it,  would  seem  only 
a  step;  but  to  Wesley  it  seemed  more  than  doubtful 
whether  any  layman  ought  to  take  that  step.  The 
master  of  the  Kingswood  School  was  one  John  Cennick, 
the  son  of  Quakers,  who  had  passed  from  a  reckless 
youth,  through  an  experience  very  like  Bunyan's,  to  a 
cheerful  and  active  manhood.  There  was  a  vein  of 
poetry  in  him,  and  two  of  his  hymns,  —  "Children  of 
the  Heavenly  King"  and  "Thou  Dear  Redeemer,  dying 
Lamb,"  are  still  widely  sung.  Cennick  is  said  to  have 
preached  before  coming  to  Kingswood;    and  he  cer- 


THE  EARLY  WORK  loi 

tainly  spoke  publicly  several  times  in  the  autumn  of 
1 739 J  with  the  approval  of  Wesley.  Perhaps  his  posi- 
tion as  teacher  was  thought  to  give  some  warrant  for 
his  more  public  exhortations;  at  all  events,  Wesley 
seemed  to  think  Cennick's  action  afforded  no  prece- 
dent for  the  next  case  of  lay  preaching.  Thomas  Max- 
field,  whose  conversion  had  been  attended  by  such 
striking  physical  excitement,^  had  gone  from  Bristol  to 
London  as  the  companion  or  servant  of  Charles  Wes- 
ley. One  day  early  in  1740,  word  came  to  Bristol  that 
Thomas  Maxfield  had  been  preaching  before  the  Foun- 
dery  Society.  Wesley  in  alarm  hurried  up  to  London  to 
stop  such  presumption.  But  his  mother  —  who  had 
recently  taken  up  residence  in  a  room  of  the  Foundery 
building  —  met  him  with  a  protest,  "  John,  take  heed 
what  you  do  with  reference  to  that  young  man,  for  he 
is  as  surely  called  to  preach  as  you  are."  Admonished 
by  this  counsel  from  one  whose  caution  on  all  churchly 
matters  he  knew  to  be  quite  equal  to  his  own,  Wesley 
reluctantly  consented  to  hear  Maxfield  preach.  After 
listening  he  exclaimed:  "It  is  the  Lord's  doing;  let 
him  do  what  seemeth  him  good.  What  am  I  that  I 
should  withstand  God?"  Convinced,  in  spite  of  deep- 
rooted  disinclination,  he  sanctioned  Maxfield  as  a 
lay  preacher.  Within  a  year  there  were  twenty  lay 
preachers. 

Of  course  this  innovation  met  with  the  warmest  op- 
position, especially  from  the  authorities  of  the  Church. 
The  Archbishop  of  Armagh  said  to  Charles  Wesley 
some  years  later,  "I  knew  your  brother  well;  I  could 
never  credit  all  I  heard  respecting  him  and  you;  but 
one  thing  in  your  conduct  I  could  never  account  for  — 

1  See  p.  87. 


I02  JOHN  WESLEY 

your  employing  laymen."  "My  Lord,"  said  Charles, 
"the  fault  is  yours  and  your  brethren's."  "How  so?  " 
asked  the  Archbishop.  "Because  you  hold  your  peace, 
and  the  stones  cry  out."  "But  I  am  told,"  urged 
the  primate,  "that  they  are  unlearned  men."  "Some 
are,"  said  Charles,  and  added  with  ready  wit,  "and  so 
the  dumb  ass  rebukes  the  prophet."  Both  John  and 
Charles  Wesley  were  always  very  sensitive  to  the  charge 
that  in  sanctioning  this  class  of  helpers  they  had  vio- 
lated the  laws  of  the  Church.  To  touch  that  point, 
John  avowed,  was  to  touch  the  apple  of  his  eye.  He 
persistently,  and  no  doubt  justly,  claimed  that  there 
was  nothing  in  the  constitution  of  the  Established 
Church  to  forbid  such  lay  preaching;  he  would  never 
consent  that  the  preachers  should  call  themselves  min- 
isters, administer  the  sacraments,  or  assume  any  priestly 
functions.  "They  no  more  take  upon  themselves  to 
be  priests  than  kings,"  he  said.  At  first  it  was  under- 
stood that  they  were  to  be  employed  only  in  cases  of 
necessity  when  the  services  of  a  clergyman  were  not  to 
be  had.  But  the  principle  once  yielded,  the  need  of 
such  helpers  was  soon  urgent.  With  their  assistance,  the 
work  of  Wesley,  thus  far  mostly  confined  to  London  and 
Bristol  and  vicinity,  could  now  be  spread  rapidly  over 
the  island.   Wesley's  itinerant  career  was  about  to  begin. 

But  just  as  Wesley's  plans  for  a  wider  extension  of 
his  work  were  taking  definite  shape,  a  theological 
difference  alienated  for  a  time  his  friend  and  colleague 
Whitefield,  and  caused  a  division  in  the  forces  of 
Methodism  which,  unfortunately,  was  to  be  perma- 
nent. So  long  as  Wesley  and  Whitefield  were  intent 
almost  wholly  upon  the  effort  to  induce  men  to  turn 


THE  EARLY  WORK  103 

from  sin  to  righteousness  of  life,  there  was  little  dan- 
ger that  their  harmony  of  purpose  should  be  disturbed 
by  any  difference  on  points  of  dogma.  But  when, 
at  the  next  stage  of  the  work,  it  became  necessary  to 
instruct  their  converts,  any  marked  divergence  of 
opinion  on  doctrines  they  deemed  essential  was  sure 
to  show  itself.  The  two  men,  it  soon  became  evident, 
had  taken  up  opposite  positions  upon  that  unsolved 
and  insoluble  question  of  the  relation  of  the  Divine 
Will  to  human  destiny.  Whitefield  had  always  in- 
clined to  that  view  of  this  question  which  is  identified 
with  the  name  of  Calvin;  and  this  inclination  had 
been  much  strengthened  by  his  visits  to  America. 
He  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  Jonathan  Edwards 
and  most  of  the  other  eminent  divines  in  the  colonies. 
He  was  in  New  England  during  the  ''Great  Awaken- 
ing "  of  1 739-1 741,  and  was  deeply  impressed  by  the 
type  of  religious  life  and  thought  he  saw  there.  Be- 
fore his  return  to  England  in  the  summer  of  1741, 
he  had  adopted  in  its  most  positive  form  the  doctrine 
of  election.  Wesley,  on  the  other  hand,  even  in  his 
undergraduate  days,  had  wrestled  with  the  problem 
and  reached  an  exactly  opposite  conclusion.  As  he 
said  in  a  letter  to  his  mother,  as  early  as  1725:  ''An 
everlasting  purpose  of  God  to  deliver  some  from  dam- 
nation does,  I  suppose,  exclude  from  that  deliver- 
ance all  who  are  not  chosen.  And  if  it  was  inevitably 
decreed  from  eternity  that  such  a  determinate  part  of 
mankind  should  be  saved,  and  none  beside  them,  a 
vast  majority  of  the  world  were  only  born  to  eternal 
death,  without  so  much  as  a  possibility  of  avoiding 
it.  How  is  this  consistent  with  either  the  Divine 
justice  or  mercy?" 


I04  JOHN   WESLEY 

His  work  as  an  evangelist  had  greatly  strength- 
ened that  conclusion.  It  seemed  to  him  impossible 
to  present  to  men  a  Gospel  which  it  had  been  divinely 
determined  most  of  them  could  not  accept,  —  a  mock- 
ery to  proclaim  the  justice,  much  more  the  love,  of  a 
God  who  had  eternally  decreed  that  a  majority  of  his 
creatures  should  sin  and  be  punished  therefor.  White- 
field,  on  his  side,  deemed  it  an  insult  to  the  sover- 
eignty of  God  to  declare  that  he  had  provided  a  plan 
for  the  salvation  of  all  men  which  had  proved  a  fail- 
ure; to  admit  that  the  Divine  Will  was  balked  and 
defeated  by  man's  disobedience.  To  say  that  men 
would  not  accept  the  salvation  God  willed  them  to 
receive,  was  more  disrespectful  to  the  Divine  Maj- 
esty than  to  say  they  could  not.  If  God  willed  all 
men  to  be  saved,  why,  then,  he  urged  upon  Wesley, 
all  men  must  be  saved,  or  God's  plan  be  frustrate. 
Moreover,  the  doctrine  of  election,  so  far  from  caus- 
ing in  the  believer,  as  Wesley  said  it  must,  a  kind  of 
pride  in  the  divine  favoritism,  is  a  cause  of  deepest 
humility.  For  he  is  saved  precisely  not  because  he 
is  better  than  his  fellow-men,  not  because  he  has  done 
anything  to  merit  or  earn  his  salvation  which  they 
might  have  done  if  they  would;  he  is  saved  because 
of  "free,  distinguishing  grace."  In  short,  each  man 
saw  his  own  side  of  the  argument,  and  could  not  see 
the  other.  They  could  not  agree  that  in  this,  as  in 
every  other  of  the  great  vexed  questions  of  the  ages, 
there  is  truth  on  both  sides,  —  truths  that  could  only 
be  reconciled  if  our  little  wisdom  could  penetrate  to 
the  Counsels  of  Omniscience. 

It  may  seem  singular  that  in  this  controversy,  Wes- 
ley, the  logician,  should  hold  by  experience  and  the 


THE  EARLY  WORK  105 

moral  instincts,  while  Whitefield,  the  impassioned 
orator,  should  be  with  the  logicians.  But  Wesley 
viewed  this  and  every  other  question  from  the  stand- 
point of  human  need.  In  this  world  of  sin  and  sor- 
row, he  was  not  anxious  to  prove  a  theodicy;  he  was 
anxious  to  help  mankind.  He  was  a  logician,  but  he 
was  first  of  all  an  evangelist;  and  the  evangelist, 
though  he  may  think  like  a  Calvinist  in  his  study, 
must  preach  like  an  Arminian  in  the  fields  and  the 
streets. 

Into  the  details  of  the  controversy  we  need  not 
enter  at  length.  Wesley  had  been  so  careful  to  avoid 
all  occasion  of  dispute,  that  a  member  of  the  London 
Society  who  was  an  ardent  believer  in  predestination 
accused  him  of  not  preaching  the  whole  truth  because 
he  never  mentioned  that  doctrine  in  his  sermons. 
Thus  challenged,  Wesley  thought  it  best  to  declare 
himself  publicly,  and  in  the  summer  of  1739  preached 
a  sermon  on  "Free  Grace."  Whitefield,  just  then 
setting  out  for  America,  besought  him  not  to  publish 
it;  but  Wesley,  helped  to  a  decision,  it  is  said,  by 
casting  a  lot  which  said  "Preach  and  print,"  decided 
he  must,  and  printed  the  sermon.  A  copy  was  sent 
to  Whitefield  in  Savannah,  and  called  out  from  him 
immediately  a  long  letter  of  eager  protest  and  expos- 
tulation, followed  in  the  next  few  months  by  three  or 
four  others  in  the  same  strain.  He  is  "ten  thousand 
times  more  convinced  of  the  truth  of  election"  than 
when  he  was  in  England,  but  he  deprecates  all  dispute; 
he  "would  rather  die  than  see  a  division"  between 
Wesley  and  himself,  yet  "how  can  I  avoid  it,"  he 
cries,  "if  you  go  about,  as  your  brother  Charles  once 
said,  to  drive  John  Calvin  out  of  Bristol?"     To  all 


io6  JOHN  WESLEY 

which  Wesley  rephed  in  calmer  tone  that  there  were 
bigots  for  predestination  and  bigots  against  it,  and 
that  Whitefield  and  he  must  be  content,  for  a  time, 
to  hold  different  opinions  on  that  subject.  But 
Whitefield 's  temper,  as  seen  in  his  later  letters,  was 
growing  less  conciliatory,  and  on  the  voyage  home  he 
prepared  a  reply  which  he  printed  immediately  on  his 
arrival,  in  March,  1741,  —  in  spite  of  the  advice  of 
Charles  Wesley,  "  Put  up  again  thy  sword  in  its 
sheath."  The  pamphlet  contained  little  argument; 
but  it  made  the  controversy  personal,  and  embittered 
it  by  introducing  some  charges  against  Wesley  which 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter  in  debate.  A  fort- 
night later  the  two  friends  had  an  interview.  Wesley 
met  Whitefield's  impetuous  protests  by  stating,  in  his 
usual  calm  and  methodical  fashion,  his  own  griev- 
ances. The  pamphlet,  he  said,  need  not  have  been 
printed;  but  if  printed,  it  certainly  should  not  have 
introduced  his  name,  still  less  should  it  have  contained 
such  irrelevant  and  injurious  personal  matter  as  must 
make  some  breach  in  their  friendship  inevitable. 
The  period  of  estrangement  that  followed  was  not, 
indeed,  of  long  duration.  Six  months  afterward, 
Whitefield,  with  his  warm-hearted  frankness,  asked 
pardon  of  Wesley  for  the  ill-judged  personal  refer- 
ences in  his  pamphlet,  and  their  correspondence  was 
renewed.  But  there  was  never  again  quite  the  old 
confidence  between  them;  and  their  work  hereafter 
was  to  be  done  mostly  in  separation. 

The  schism  in  the  Methodist  societies  had  already 
begun  before  Whitefield's  return.  John  Cennick, 
the  young  Kingswood  schoolmaster,  had  accepted 
Calvinistic  views,   and  in  the   later   months   of   1740 


THE  EARLY  WORK  107 

was  spreading  dissatisfaction  among  the  members 
of  the  Bristol  Society  at  what  he  chose  to  think  the 
dangerous  teaching  of  the  Wesleys.  With  a  droll 
self-importance  he  wrote  to  Whitefield  complaining 
that  Charles  and  John  Wesley  were  preaching  like 
atheists  against  predestination  among  the  frightened 
sheep,  and  he  alone,  in  the  midst  of  this  plague,  sat 
solitary  like  Eli,  wondering  what  would  become  of 
the  ark.  On  going  to  Bristol,  Wesley  found  that  all 
sorts  of  rumors  had  been  set  afloat  concerning  him- 
self and  his  brother.  He  expostulated  with  Cennick 
for  thus  accusing  them  behind  their  backs,  and  foment- 
ing trouble  in  the  society.  Cennick,  however,  denied 
that  he  had  made  any  private  accusations  against 
Wesley  and,  on  being  confronted  with  his  letter  to 
Whitefield,  protested  before  the  society,  with  charac- 
teristic assurance,  that  there  was  nothing  but  truth 
in  the  letter,  and  that  he  had  no  wish  to  retract  it. 
Wesley  waited  a  week  for  the  offenders  to  change 
their  attitude,  and  then  at  a  meeting  of  the  society 
read  a  paper  declaring  that,  unless  they  should  openly 
confess  their  faults,  ''several  members"  would  be 
dropped,  ''not  for  their  opinions,  nor  for  any  of  them 
(whether  they  be  right  or  wrong),  but  for  scoffing  at 
the  word  and  ministers  of  God,  tale-bearing,  back- 
biting and  evil  speaking;  for  their  dissembling,  lying, 
and  slandering."  Cennick  was  hardly  likely  to  plead 
guilty  to  such  charges  as  these,  and  a  few  days  after- 
wards he  withdrew  from  the  society,  with  fifty-one 
others,  protesting  to  the  last  that  he  was  a  martyr 
for  the  doctrine  of  predestination.  He  was  doubtless 
sincere;  but  he  was  rather  pragmatic  and  disputa- 
tious,  and   sometimes  mistook  his  obstinacy  for  his 


io8  JOHN   WESLEY 

duty.  The  action  of  Wesley  in  the  circumstances, 
though  severe,  was  just,  and  certainly  was  wise.  The 
usefulness  of  the  society  would  have  been  destroyed 
at  once,  if  it  had  fallen  into  factions  and  lost  confi- 
dence in  its  leader. 

Wesley  was  careful  to  afhrm,  and  with  perfect  truth, 
that  none  were  expelled  from  his  societies  for  their 
opinions;  yet  it  was  but  natural  that,  for  the  future, 
those  who  held  to  the  views  of  Whitefield  should  ally 
themselves  with  him.  As  Wesley  put  it,  ''There  were 
now  two  sorts  of  Methodists:  those  for  particular, 
and  those  for  universal  redemption."  If  he  lost 
thereby  many  adherents,  those  who  remained  were 
more  closely  united  in  sympathy  with  him  and  each 
other,  and  his  work  in  the  next  twenty  years  gained 
greatly  from  such  union,  in  effectiveness  and  consist- 
ency. 

Thus,  by  the  summer  of  1742,  Wesley  found  him- 
self at  the  head  of  a  definite  religious  movement,  with 
a  large  body  of  devoted  followers,  organized  in  a  sim- 
ple but  most  efficient  manner  which  kept  them  under 
his  constant  supervision,  and  with  an  increasing  num- 
ber of  loyal  helpers  selected  by  himself  and  under  his 
direction.  And  all  this  as  a  result  of  no  ambitious 
plans  of  his  own,  but  rather  of  a  series  of  events  which 
he  could  not  deem  other  than  providential. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  EXTENSION   OF   THE   WORK 
1 742-1 760 

Up  to  the  year  1742  Wesley's  work  had  been  con- 
fined mostly  to  the  vicinity  of  London  and  Bristol. 
He  had  preached  in  Windsor,  Bath,  Southampton, 
and  various  other  places  in  the  south  of  England, 
but  he  had  not  yet  visited  the  north.  He  was  now 
to  spread  the  influence  of  Methodism  rapidly  in  that 
direction.  Within  the  next  ten  years  his  societies 
were  dotted  thickly  over  all  the  northern  counties. 

One  of  his  earliest  lay 'preachers  was  John  Nelson, 
a  Yorkshire  stone-mason  who  was  converted  while 
working  at  his  trade  in  London.  Nelson  was  a  big, 
good-natured  giant,  full  of  good  sense  as  well  as  of 
religion,  and  being  withal  an  excellent  stone-mason, 
when  he  went  home  to  Yorkshire,  he  gave  his  fellow- 
villagers  in  Birstall  a  good  notion  of  Methodism,  and 
soon  gathered  a  little  society  there.  It  was  at  the  in- 
vitation of  Nelson  that  Wesley,  in  May,  1742,  started 
for  the  north.  He  stopped  on  the  way  at  Donning- 
ton  Park,  the  seat  of  the  Countess  of  Huntingdon, 
to  see  an  old  friend,  Miss  Cowper,  then  in  her  last 
illness,  and  reached  Birstall  on  a  Wednesday  even- 
ing.    That  night  he  had  a  long  conference  with  Nelson 

and  next  day  preached  twice  to  his  people,  meeting 

109 


no  JOHN  WESLEY 

many  of  them  for  individual  counsel.  On  Friday 
he  pushed  on  to  Newcastle,  —  reading  Xenophon's 
"  Memorabilia  "  as  he  went,  —  reaching  there  in  the 
late  afternoon.  As  he  rode  into  the  town  he  was 
shocked  at  the  wretchedness  and  vice  that  filled  the 
streets.  So  much  drunkenness,  cursing,  and  swear- 
ing even  from  the  mouths  of  little  children  he  had 
never  heard  before  in  so  short  a  time.  Here  evidently 
was  a  place  that  needed  him.  At  seven  o'clock  Sun- 
day morning  he  walked  to  the  meanest  part  of  the 
town,  and,  standing  with  his  servant  John  Taylor  at 
the  end  of  a  street,  began  to  sing  the  Hundredth 
Psalm.  Three  or  four  people  lounged  out  to  see  what 
was  going  on,  and  as  the  crowd  soon  grew  to  as  many 
hundreds,  Wesley  began  to  preach;  before  he  was 
through,  there  were  twelve  or  fifteen  hundred.  At 
the  close  of  his  sermon,  as  they  stood  gaping  in  blank 
astonishment,  he  said:  "If  you  desire  to  know  who  I 
am,  my  name  is  John  Wesley.  At  five  in  the  even- 
ing, with  God's  help,  I  design  to  preach  here  again." 
That  evening  the  audience  must  have  been  ten  times 
as  large  as  in  the  morning,  for  Wesley  —  who  had 
preached  to  great  crowds  —  declares  that  he  had 
never  seen  so  many  people  together,  and  that,  though 
his  voice  was  strong  and  full,  he  could  not  make  the 
half  of  them  hear.  He  preached  to  them  on  the  text, 
"I  will  heal  their  backslidings,  I  will  love  them  freely;  '* 
and  when  he  was  through  the  poor  people  crowded 
upon  him  with  expressions  of  joy  and  gratitude  till 
he  was  ''almost  trodden  under  foot  out  of  pure  love 
and  kindness."  He  escaped  to  his  inn  by  a  side 
street,  but  numbers  of  them  were  there  before  him, 
beseeching  him  not  to  leave  them,  or  at  least  to  stay 


THE  EXTENSION   OF  THE  WORK  iii 

a  few  days  more.  He  was  obliged  to  deny  them,  as 
he  had  promised  to  be  back  with  Nelson  again  on 
Tuesday;  but  that  Sunday  convinced  him  that  New- 
castle must  be  a  centre  of  his  work  in  the  future.  Four 
months  later  Charles  Wesley  came  down  to  Newcastle 
for  a  time,  and  in  the  late  autumn  John  himself  returned 
and  spent  six  weeks  there.  Nowhere  had  the  results 
of  his  preaching  been  more  encouraging.  The  people 
flocked  to  hear  him,  and  there  was  little  or  none  of 
the  riotous  opposition  he  often  had  to  encounter  else- 
where. Some  instances  of  the  physical  prostration 
that  had  accompanied  his  first  preaching  in  Bristol 
are  mentioned  in  the  Journal;  but  in  general  there 
was  remarkably  little  unhealthy  excitement  of  any 
kind.  As  Wesley  himself  phrases  it,  "I  never  saw  a 
work  of  God  so  evenly  and  gradually  carried  on." 

Among  the  most  interesting  entries  in  the  Journal 
at  this  time  are  those  which  record  his  visits  to  the 
small  mining  towns  in  the  vicinity  of  Newcastle, 
Chowden,  Pelton,  Burtley,  Placey.  The  poor  col- 
liers of  this  northern  region  were,  if  possible,  more 
ignorant  and  lawless  than  those  at  Kingswood  had 
been.  Placey  had  a  bad  preeminence.  Its  inhabit- 
ants were  all  colliers,  knowing  nothing  of  any  kind 
of  religion,  and  the  despair  and  dread  of  all  decent 
persons.  Sunday  was  their  weekly  festival,  when 
men,  women,  and  children  turned  out  to  dance,  play 
at  ball  or  chuck-farthing,  cursing,  swearing,  fighting, 
in  an  orgy  of  drunken  hilarity.  Yet  when  Wesley 
rode  out  one  day,  in  the  teeth  of  a  blinding  storm  of 
sleet,  and  preached  to  these  people  morning  and  after- 
noon, they  listened  attentively,  and  in  the  next  four 
days   many   of   them    began   a   different    life.     Years 


112  JOHN  WESLEY 

after  Wesley  said  with  a  touch  of  fond  pride  that  his 
honest,  simple-hearted  colliers  of  Placey  were  a  pat- 
tern to  all  his  societies.  He  nowhere  found  more 
earnest  or  consistent  Christians  than  many  of  these 
"wild,  staring,  loving"  folk  of  the  north;  but  they 
were  very  unconventional.  One  afternoon  while  he 
was  preaching  in  Pelton,  an  old  collier,  unaccustomed 
to  hear  such  good  things,  in  the  middle  of  the  sermon 
began  shouting  amain,  ''for  mere  satisfaction  and 
joy  of  heart."  Their  usual  mode  of  expressing  ap- 
proval was  by  slapping  Wesley  on  the  back,  which, 
he  says,  "somewhat  surprised  me  at  first." 

Wesley  was  deeply  moved  by  the  poverty  and 
wretchedness  of  the  lowest  classes  throughout  this 
mining  region.  One  day  as  he  was  going  to  preach 
on  a  common  near  Chowden,  twenty  or  thirty  chil- 
dren ran  about  him,  staring  like  some  dumb,  hungry 
animals.  They  were  only  just  not  naked.  The 
eldest,  a  girl  of  fifteen,  had  only  a  piece  of  ragged 
blanket  hung  upon  her,  and  a  dirty  cap  on  her  head. 
"My  heart  was  greatly  enlarged  toward  them,"  says 
Wesley;  "they  looked  as  if  they  would  have  swallowed 
me  up."  He  could  never  see  poverty  like  this  with- 
out making  efforts  to  relieve  it,  and  his  religion  was 
always  blossoming  into  wise  plans  of  practical  benevo- 
lence. Before  leaving  Newcastle,  on  this  his  second 
visit,  he  had  contracted  for  the  erection  of  a  large 
building  that  should  provide  an  orphanage  and  school 
for  destitute  children,  and  serve  as  a  centre  for  the 
charitable  as  well  as  the  religious  work  of  Method- 
ism in  this  section.  An  ex-mayor  of  Newcastle 
offered  him  a  plot  of  ground  for  forty  pounds,  and 
Wesley,  with    only  twenty- seven    shillings    on    hand, 


THE  EXTENSION   OF  THE  WORK  113 

laid  the  corner-stone,  in  full  assurance  that  the  seven 
hundred  pounds  needed  would  be  provided.  And 
they  were.  A  handsome  beginning  was  made  a  fort- 
night later  by  a  generous  Quaker  who  wrote  that, 
having  seen  in  a  dream  Wesley  surrounded  by  a  large 
flock  of  sheep  that  he  didn't  know  what  to  do  with, 
he  sent  a  check  for  a  hundred  pounds  to  help  house 
them.  The  building  was  finished  within  a  year,  and 
from  that  day  to  this  the  Newcastle  Orphanage  has 
been  one  of  the  most  useful  institutions  of  English 
Methodism. 

When  returning  from  his  first  visit  to  Newcastle, 
Wesley  stopped  at  Ep worth.  The  place  must  have 
seemed  to  him  desolate.  His  father  had  been  dead 
seven  years,  and  no  representative  of  the  scattered 
family  was  living  near  except  his  brother-in-law,  John 
Whitelamb,  who  was  now  rector  of  the  little  parish 
of  Wroote,  where,  years  before,  Wesley  had  served 
as  his  father's  curate.  The  stout  old  rector  of  Ep- 
worth  had  not  been  followed  by  the  "Mighty  Nimrod" 
whose  succession  to  the  living  he  so  much  dreaded ; 
but  the  curate,  a  Mr.  Romley,  was  no  friend  to  the 
Methodists.  Wesley  reached  Epworth  on  Saturday 
evening,  and  not  knowing  whether  there  were  any 
left  in  the  parish  who  would  not  be  ashamed  of  his 
acquaintance,  took  lodging  in  the  village  inn.  But 
a  servant  of  his  father's,  with  two  or  three  other  old 
women,  found  him  out  at  once.  To  Wesley's  ques- 
tion whether  there  were  now  in  Epworth  any  intent 
to  lead  a  religious  life,  she  answered  promptly:  *'I 
am,  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  I  know  that  I  am  saved 
through  faith.  And  many  here  can  say  the  same 
thing."     It  seems  clear,   indeed,   that  Wesley  found 


114  JOHN  WESLEY 

in  Epworth  and  the  surrounding  villages,  little  groups 
of  people  whose  religion  was  in  marked  contrast  with 
the  spiritual  apathy  of  their  neighbors.  He  records 
with  quiet  satisfaction  a  call  he  made,  three  days 
later,  upon  a  justice  of  the  peace  in  a  village  a  few 
miles  away,  before  whom  a  wagon  load  of  these  ''new 
heretics  "  had  lately  been  arraigned.  ''But  what 
have  they  done?"  asked  the  justice  of  their  accusers. 
"Why,  they  pretend  to  be  better  than  other  people, 
and,  besides,  they  pray  from  morning  till  night." 
"But  have  they  done  nothing  besides?"  "Yes,  sir," 
said  an  old  man,  "an 't  please  your  worship,  they  have 
convarted  my  wife.  Till  she  went  among  them  she 
had  such  a  tongue  !  And  now  she  is  quiet  as  a  lamb. " 
"Carry  them  back,  carry  them  back,"  said  the  jus- 
tice, "and  let  them  convert  every  scold  in  the  town!" 
But  the  Methodists  were  generally  not  in  favor  with 
either  the  squires  or  the  parsons.  The  morning  after 
his  arrival,  Wesley  courteously  offered  to  assist  in  the 
church  service  either  by  preaching  or  reading  the 
prayers;  but  the  curate  gave  him  a  blunt  refusal, 
and  improved  the  occasion  by  preaching  a  flaming 
sermon  himself,  that  afternoon,  on  the  perils  of  enthu- 
siasm. At  the  close  of  the  service,  John  Taylor, 
standing  by  the  church  door,  announced  to  the  audi- 
ence, as  they  came  out,  that  Mr.  John  Wesley,  not 
being  allowed  to  speak  in  the  church,  designed  to 
preach  in  the  churchyard  at  six  that  evening.  At 
that  hour  a  large  company  gathered,  drawn  partly, 
no  doubt,  by  curiosity,  but  partly  also,  we  may  believe, 
by  loving  memory  of  their  old  rector,  to  hear  his  son 
who  was  so  widely  known  as  a  Methodist.  Standing 
on  his  father's  tombstone,  by  a  corner  of  the  church. 


THE  EXTENSION   OF  THE  WORK  115 

Wesley  preached  to  them  from  one  of  his  favorite 
texts.  "The  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  not  meat  and 
drink,  but  righteousness  and  peace,  and  joy  in  the 
Holy  Ghost. "  When  he  closed,  so  many  of  his  hearers 
urged  him  to  stay  longer,  that  he  reversed  his  decision 
to  go  on  the  next  morning,  and  remained  a  week. 
Every  day  he  preached  and  exhorted  in  the  villages 
near  by,  every  evening  he  preached  in  the  Epworth 
churchyard,  and  there  were  scenes  of  such  Method- 
ist enthusiasm  as  doubtless  scandalized  the  curate. 
One  evening  a  gentleman  in  the  neighborhood,  who 
had  not  been  inside  a  church  for  more  than  thirty 
years,  drew  up  in  his  carriage  with  his  wife,  and 
alighting  stood  in  the  fringe  of  the  crowd  during  all 
the  preaching,  motionless  as  a  statue.  Noticing  him, 
Wesley  said  abruptly,  "Sir,  are  you  a  sinner?" 
"Sinner  enough !"  said  the  man,  with  a  choking  voice, 
and  stood  still  staring  upwards,  till  his  wife  and  ser- 
vants got  him  into  his  carriage  and  carried  him  home. 
Ten  years  later,  Wesley  met  him  again,  a  happy  old 
man,  awaiting  "without  a  doubt  or  fear"  the  welcome 
time  of  his  departure. 

Whitelamb,  a  rather  feeble,  placid  little  man  who 
had  married  Wesley's  deformed  and  crippled  sister 
Mary,  after  her  death  fell  into  a  state  of  religious  in- 
difference which  had  alienated  him  from  the  Wesleys. 
He  heard  Wesley,  and  now  wrote  a  touching  letter, 
full  of  a  regard  that  was  almost  veneration,  urging 
his  brother  to  visit  him  in  his  loneliness.  Wesley 
accepted  the  invitation,  and  next  Sunday  preached 
morning  and  evening  in  the  little  church  at  Wroote, 
hastening  back  in  the  evening  to  his  last  service  in 
the   Epworth   churchyard.    A   vast   throng   from   all 


ii6  JOHN  WESLEY 

the  region  crowded  the  churchyard  to  hear  his  part- 
ing words,  and  when  the  three  hours  were  over,  said 
Wesley,  "We  hardly  knew  how  to  part."  These 
twilight  sermons  in  the  Epworth  churchyard  brought 
back  to  him  with  thrilling  vividness,  as  they  must  to 
many  of  his  listeners,  memories  of  the  long  and  patient 
ministry  of  the  father  whose  dust  reposed  beneath 
his  feet.  As  he  was  leaving  next  day  he  wrote  in  the 
Journal:  "O  let  none  think  his  labor  of  love  is  lost 
because  the  fruit  does  not  immediately  appear !  Near 
forty  years  did  my  father  labor  here ;  but  he  saw  little 
fruit  of  all  his  labor." 

It  is  pleasant  to  think  that  Wesley's  mother  lived 
long  enough  to  hear  of  this  visit  of  her  favorite  son 
to  the  old  home  where  she  too  had  labored  for  forty 
years,  in  hardships  and  privations  that  would  have 
worn  out  a  weaker  woman,  sharing  every  trial  of  her 
heroic  husband  with  a  patience  and  fortitude  quite 
the  equal  of  his  own.  Wesley  had  been  in  Bristol 
only  a  fortnight  after  his  return  from  the  north,  when 
he  learned  that  his  mother  was  seriously  ill  at  her 
rooms  in  the  Foundery.  He  hastened  up  to  London, 
reaching  there  in  time  to  be  with  her  during  the  last 
three  days  of  her  life.  Charles  was  absent  in  the 
north,  but  the  five  surviving  daughters,  who  now 
lived  in  or  near  London,  could  all  be  with  her  in  the 
closing  hours.  When  the  peaceful  end  came,  John 
and  his  sisters,  standing  around  her  bedside,  fulfilled 
the  request  of  her  last  words,  "Children,  when  I  am 
released,  sing  a  hymn  of  praise  to  God."  It  was 
July  23,  1742.  She  was  buried,  not  in  a  churchyard, 
but  in  that  "Necropolis  of  Dissenters,"  Bunhill  Fields. 
John  Wesley,  standing  by  her  grave,  a  vast  company 


THE  EXTENSION   OF  THE  WORK  117 

gathered  round,  pronounced  with  broken  voice  the 
words,  "I  commit  the  body  of  my  mother  to  the  earth," 
and  then  preached  to  what  he  calls  "one  of  the  most 
solemn  assemblies  I  ever  saw,  or  expect  to  see  on 
this  side  eternity." 

With  his  visit  to  Newcastle  begins  Wesley's  itinerant 
life.  Thereafter  it  becomes  difficult  to  follow  him. 
We  shall  not  try  to  do  so.  He  had  no  abiding  place. 
Rooms  were  set  apart  for  him  in  the  Foundery,  but 
he  seldom  occupied  them  more  than  a  few  days  at  a 
time.  He  is  always  on  the  road,  passing  from  one 
end  of  the  island  to  the  other.  The  record  of  these 
years,  given  in  the  Journal,  considered  merely  as  labor 
of  body  and  mind  is  astonishing.  It  is  estimated 
that  in  the  last  fifty  years  of  his  life  he  crossed  the 
Irish  Channel  over  fifty  times  and  travelled  over  two 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  miles  on  land  —  the  equiv- 
alent of  ten  times  round  the  globe  —  visiting  remote 
fishing  villages  in  Cornwall  and  mining  towns  in 
Yorkshire  which  the  railways  have  not  even  yet  reached. 
And  all  his  journeying  up  to  1773  was  done  on  horse- 
back. No  man  knew  the  roads  and  lanes  of  England 
half  so  well  as  he.  Indeed,  when  he  began  his  travels, 
there  were  no  turnpike  roads  in  the  north  of  England, 
and  the  London  coach  went  only  as  far  as  York.  His 
Journal  records  more  than  one  instance  of  a  journey 
of  eighty  or  ninety  miles  on  horseback  in  one  day. 
Later,  when  he  travelled  by  post-chaise,  he  sometimes 
covered  even  longer  distances.  In  1778,  he  left  Con- 
gleton  one  Wednesday  afternoon  for  a  brief  visit  to 
Bristol,  stayed  in  the  latter  town  two  hours  and  was 
back  in  Congleton  again  on  Friday  afternoon  —  two 


ii8  JOHN  WESLEY 

hundred  and  eighty  miles  in  forty-eight  hours  — 
''and  no  more  tired  (blessed  be  God)  than  when  I 
left."  On  the  other  hand,  the  wretched  roads,  even 
in  the  latter  part  of  the  century,  especially  in  the  fen 
country,  often  made  travelling  by  carriage  almost 
impossible.  The  Journal  reports  divers  accidents 
from  that  cause  —  an  axle  breaks,  a  wheel  comes  off, 
his  chaise  sticks  fast  in  a  slough  or  a  snow  bank,  or 
is  nearly  swamped  in  a  stream,  and  on  one  occasion 
he  is  forced  to  leave  it  altogether  and  take  to  a  boat. 
In  his  riding  he  met  numerous  accidents  that  might 
have  easily  been  fatal;  but  he  always  escaped  with- 
out serious  injury,  and  often  improved  the  opportu- 
nity of  doing  good  to  some  one  else.  Riding  out  of 
London  one  morning,  the  saddle  slipped  to  his  mare's 
neck,  and  he  fell  over  her  head  to  the  ground,  while 
she  ran  back  to  Smithfield.  Some  boys  caught  her 
and  led  her  to  him,  and  bystanders  helped  him  fix  his 
saddle,  cursing  and  swearing  at  every  word.  "I 
looked  to  one  and  another,"  says  Wesley,  "and  spoke 
in  love.  They  all  took  it  well  and  thanked  me  much ; 
and  I  gave  them  some  little  books  which  they  prom- 
ised to  read  carefully."  At  another  time  when  his 
horse  threw  him  heavily  and  the  people  ran  from  a 
cottage  to  help  him,  thinking  his  leg  was  broken, 
Wesley  found  that  they  were  members  of  his  society 
who  had  gone  astray,  and  took  the  occasion  to  give 
them  kindly  persuasion  and  advice  that  brought  them 
back  again.  Once,  while  he  was  riding  in  Bristol, 
his  horse  "suddenly  pitched  on  her  head  and  rolled 
over  and  over"  ;  but  Wesley  got  only  a  little  bruise 
from  which  he  felt  no  pain,  and  in  the  next  hour 
preached   "to   six  or  seven  thousand  people."     One 


THE  EXTENSION   OF  THE  WORK  119 

of  his  biographers^  says  that   he  was  "a  hard,  but 
unskilful   rider."      But   if   the   distances   he   had    to 
travel  made  him  a  hard  rider,  he  was  merciful  to  his 
beast,   and   insisted   that  others   should   be.     One   of 
the  directions  given  to  his  lay  preachers  was:  ''Every 
one  ought,  i.   Not  to  ride  hard.     2.   To  see  with  his 
own  eyes  his  horse  rubbed,  fed,  and  bedded."     As  to 
his   skill   as  a  horseman,  any  ungracefulness   in   his 
seat  was  doubtless  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  he 
always  had  a  book  in  his  hand.     His  saddle  was  his 
study;    most  of  his  wide  miscellaneous  reading  was 
done  on  horseback.     Indeed,  there  seemed  no  other 
time  to  do  it.     He  always  rose  at  four  in  the  morning ; 
preached  whenever  possible  at  five,  and  was  often  on 
the   road   again  before   eight,   following  his   morning 
sermon  sometimes  by  five  others   in   the    same   day, 
riding  ten  or  twelve  miles  between  each  one  and  the 
next.    In  the  fifty  years  of  his  itinerant  life,  he  preached 
over  forty  thousand  times,  an  average  of  some  fifteen 
sermons  a  week.     It  is  doubtful  whether  the  annals 
of  the  century  can  show  another  record  of  such  tire- 
less methodical  activity. 

In  1743  Wesley  was  just  forty  years  of  age,  in  the 
early  maturity  of  all  his  powers.  Some  symptoms 
of  constitutional  weakness  in  his  college  days  had 
been  followed  by  twenty  years  of  almost  perfect  health. 
The  sensational  account  he  gives  of  his  symptoms 
during  a  few  days  of  fever  and  indigestion  in  1741  is 
proof  enough  that  he  was  generally  a  stranger  to  pain. 
His  enormous  power  of  work  was  due,  not  merely  to 
his  strict  methodical  habits,  but  still  more  to  a  tem- 

1  Hampson,  «  Life  of  Wesley,"  III,  191,  quoted  by  Telford,  195. 


I20  JOHN  WESLEY 

perament  remarkably  steady  and  self-possessed.  He 
never  hurried;  he  never  worried.  He  had  no  wear- 
ing anxieties.  On  his  eighty-fifth  birthday  he  writes 
in  his  Journal  that  he  has  never  lost  a  night's  sleep, 
sick  or  well,  on  land  or  sea,  since  he  was  born ;  though 
here  his  memory  slipped  slightly,  as  was  natural  at 
eighty-five,  for  fifteen  years  before  he  notes  that  while 
crossing  the  English  channel  he  has  lain  awake  all 
night  for  the  first  time  in  his  life.  The  correct  record 
seems  to  be  one  night  in  eighty-five  years.  He  was 
agile,  short  and  slight  of  figure,  a  little  man  never 
weighing  over  about  a  hundred  and  twenty  pounds. 
In  defiance  of  the  fashion  of  that  bewigged  age,  he 
wore  his  own  hair,  long,  parted  in  the  middle,  and 
falling  upon  his  shoulders  with  just  the  suspicion  of 
a  curl.  His  countenance  betokened  a  singular  union 
of  firmness  and  benignity;  and  many  of  his  contem- 
poraries speak  of  the  keen  and  searching  expression 
of  his  eyes,  which  he  retained  to  old  age.  A  recent 
noble  commemorative  poem  ^  begins  with  the  lines :  — 

"  In  those  clear,  piercing,  piteous  eyes  behold 
The  very  soul  that  over  England  flamed." 

In  manner  he  was  a  pattern  of  courteous  dignity; 
dress,  bearing,  the  very  tone  of  his  voice,  bespoke  a 
certain  austere  refinement. 

As  a  preacher,  if  he  is  measured  either  by  the  imme- 
diate effects  or  by  the  permanent  results  of  his  ser- 
mons, it  must  be  said  that  he  had  no  equal  in  his 
century.  Yet  the  effect  of  his  preaching  is  somewhat 
difficult  to  explain,  unless  we  explain  it,  as  he  himself 
did,  by  the  truth  of  what  he  said,  and  the  divine  enforce- 

^  By  Richard  Watson  Gilder. 


JOHN   WESLEY. 

From  the  painting  by  Williams,  photographed  at  Didsbury  College,  Didsbury, 
England,  by  permission  of  the  Rev.  J.  S.  Simon. 


THE  EXTENSION  OF  THE   WORK  121 

merit  of  that  truth  upon  his  hearers.  For  his  sermons 
certainly  owed  nothing  to  the  exterior  graces  of  the 
rhetorician  or  the  orator.  He  had  none  of  Whitefield's 
dramatic  power.  Nor  did  he  covet  it.  He  used  to 
speak  with  just  a  Httle  contempt  of  what  he  called 
"the  amorous  style  of  praying  and  the  luscious  style 
of  preaching,"  which  that  great  pulpit  orator  allowed 
himself.  Later  in  life  he  wrote,  "I  cannot  admire 
the  French  oratory.  I  despise  it  from  my  heart. 
Give  me  the  plain  nervous  style  of  Dr.  South,  Dr. 
Bates,  and  Mr.  John  Howe.  Let  who  will  admire 
the  French  frippery.  I  am  for  plain  sound  English." 
The  matter  of  his  sermons,  if  we  may  judge  from  those 
he  printed,  was  absolutely  simple,  and  the  manner 
rather  expository  and  argumentative  than  emotional. 
Dr.  Kennicott,  then  an  undergraduate,  heard  him 
preach  in  Oxford  in  1744,  and  describes  him  as  "neither 
tall  nor  fat,  for  the  latter  would  ill  become  a  Method- 
ist. His  black  hair,  quite  smooth  and  parted  very 
exactly,  added  to  a  peculiar  composure  in  his  counte- 
nance, showed  him  to  be  an  uncommon  man.  His 
prayer  was  soft,  short,  and  conformable  to  the  rules 
■of  the  University.  His  text  was  Acts  iv,  3.  He 
spoke  it  very  slowly,  and  with  an  agreeable  emphasis. " 
Young  Kennicott  thought  Wesley  oversevere  on  the 
morals  of  the  University,  but  concludes,  "Had  these 
censures  been  moderated,  I  think  his  discourse  as  to 
style  and  delivery  would  have  been  universally  pleas- 
ing to  others  as  well  as  to  myself.  He  is  allowed  to 
be  a  man  of  great  parts." 

His  sermons  delivered  in  the  open  air  must  have 
been  largely  extemporaneous,  and  doubtless  were  less 
carefully  prepared  than  those  he  printed.     Yet  here, 


122  JOHN  WESLEY 

as  in  the  pulpit,  he  was  always  fearful  of  any  extrava- 
gances of  statement,  and  especially  of  anything  strained 
or  fulsome  in  manner.  ''Don't  scream,  Sammy," 
he  wrote  to  one  of  his  young  preachers,  "never 
scream."  Whether  preaching  in  St.  Mary's  at  Ox- 
ford, or  under  the  open  sky  in  the  vast  natural  am- 
phitheatre at  Gwennap  in  Cornwall,  he  was  always 
the  same  quiet,  refined,  but  plain-speaking  man. 
His  power  over  vast  audiences  seemed  to  lie  in  his 
intense  but  quiet  earnestness,  and  his  intimate  and 
sympathetic  knowledge  of  the  needs  of  his  hearers. 
Said  John  Nelson,  when  first  he  heard  him:  "He 
made  my  heart  beat  like  the  pendulum  of  a  clock. 
I  thought  he  spoke  to  no  one  but  to  me.  This  man  can 
tell  the  secrets  of  my  heart!"  It  is  significant  that 
while  Wesley  was  subjected  to  almost  all  other  sorts 
of  abuse,  his  preaching  was  never  charged  with  hypo- 
critical extravagance,  or  caricatured  as  that  of  White- 
field  constantly  was. 

Nor  is  it  true,  as  sometimes  alleged  by  historians 
of  that  century,^  that  the  preaching  of  Wesley  and 
his  followers  owed  its  effect  to  the  crude  but  vivid 
presentation,  before  ignorant  and  vicious  men,  of 
the  tortures  of  future  punishment.  Of  Wesley,  at 
least,  nothing  could  be  more  false.  It  is  clear  from 
his  Journal  that  he  rarely,  if  ever,  appealed  to  terror. 
The  nature  of  his  sermons  can  be  readily  inferred 
from  his  favorite  texts.  Those  from  which  he  preached 
most  frequently  were  the  following:  — 

"The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is  upon  me  because  he 
hath  appointed  me  to  preach  the  Gospel  to  the  poor." 

1  e.g.  Leslie  Stephen's  "  History  of  English  Thought  in  the  Eigh- 
teenth Century,"  Ch.  XIX,  Sect.  6. 


THE  EXTENSION  OF  THE  WORK  123 

''I  will  heal  all  their  backslidings.  I  will  love  them 
freely."  "The  Son  of  Man  is  come  to  save  that 
which  was  lost."  ''We  love  Him  because  He  first 
loved  us."  "Being  justified  by  faith  we  have  peace 
with  God  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  "I  am 
not  come  to  call  the  righteous,  but  sinners  to  repent- 
ance." "Ho  every  one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to 
the  waters."  "The  Kingdom  of  God  is  not  meat 
and  drink,  but  righteousness  and  peace  and  joy  in 
the  Holy  Ghost."  "The  Son  of  Man  hath  power  on 
earth  to  forgive  sins." 

On  all  these  texts,  as  may  be  seen  in  the  Journal, 
he  preached  repeatedly;  while  there  is  hardly  to  be 
found  a  single  instance  of  a  sermon  not  based  upon 
some  passage  which,  like  these,  states  some  provision 
or  promise  of  the  Gospel.  It  is  evident  that  if  Wes- 
ley led  those  tradesmen  and  colliers  and  smugglers 
to  feel  that  they  were  sinners  and  needed  somehow 
to  get  rid  of  their  sin,  he  did  it  not  by  threats,  seldom 
even  by  warnings.  He  preached,  rather,  the  love  of 
God  to  man,  because  his  own  heart  was  filled  with  a 
great  love  and  pity  for  his  sinning  and  suffering  fel- 
lows. Whenever  possible  he  tried  to  follow  his  preach- 
ing by  familiar  and  kindly  advice  to  his  individual 
hearers.  He  used  to  say  he  could  never  understand 
how  any  minister  could  be  content  unless  he  knew 
all  his  flock  by  name,  not  excepting  the  servants.  That 
was  impossible  with  his  vast  flock;  but  it  is  safe  to 
say  that  he  was  personally  acquainted  with  thousands 
of  his  converts  all  over  England.  By  1770  no  man 
in  Europe  knew  so  many  of  his  fellow-men  by  name, 
or  had  left  the  charm  of  his  smile  and  voice  in  so 
many  hearts.     And   the   temper  of  his  preaching  is 


124  JOHN  WESLEY 

proved  clearly  enough  by  the  fact  that  when  he  died 
he  was  doubtless  the  best  beloved  man  in  England. 

During  the  year  1742  and  1743  Wesley  made  five 
journeys  to  the  north  with  Newcastle  as  his  objective 
point,  and  in  the  opposite  direction  went  down  into 
Cornwall  quite  to  Land's  End,  with  a  run  over  to  the 
Scilly  Islands.  In  these  journeys  with  one  or  two 
short  trips  to  Wales,  he  records  in  the  Journal 
preaching  in  over  seventy  towns  and  villages,  in 
many  of  them  more  than  once.  Methodist  socie- 
ties had  now  been  gathered  in  so  many  places,  that 
Wesley  felt  it  wise  to  call  others  to  his  aid,  and  to 
form  some  plan  of  methodical  visitation  and  over- 
sight. Accordingly  he  requested  several  clergymen 
in  sympathy  with  his  work  to  meet  his  brother  Charles 
and  himself,  with  a  few  of  the  lay  helpers,  in  order 
to  "confer"  with  reference  to  the  advancement  and 
direction  of  the  work  now  spreading  so  rapidly  over 
the  island.  This  first  Methodist  Conference  met 
in  the  Foundery,  the  last  five  days  of  June,  1744. 
Besides  the  Wesleys  there  were  only  four  clergymen 
present,  and  these  from  obscure  and  widely  sepa- 
rated parishes  —  Piers,  Vicar  of  Bexley,  Hodges,  rec- 
tor of  Wenvo  in  Wales,  Taylor,  vicar  of  Quinton  in 
Gloucestershire,  and  Meriton  from  the  Isle  of  Man. 
Four  lay  preachers  were  invited,  Richards,  Maxfield, 
Bennett,  and  Downes.  Wesley  probably  had  then  no 
definite  plan  for  future  meetings  of  this  sort;  but 
this  proved  to  be  the  first  of  a  series  of  Annual  Con- 
ferences which  have  continued  to  this  day,  and  have 
determined  largely  the  doctrine  and  polity  of  Method- 
ism.     Considerable    time   was   spent    in   this,    as    in 


THE  EXTENSION   OF  THE  WORK  125 

following  Conferences,  in  the  discussion  of  points 
of  doctrine  and  experience.  These  discussions  were 
carried  on  with  the  most  admirable  frankness  and 
openness  of  mind.  Every  one  was  to  speak  his  own 
judgment  freely.  The  Conference  of  1747,  three  years 
later,  entered  upon  its  records  the  following  minute :  — 

''In  our  first  Conference  it  was  agreed  to  examine 
every  point  from  the  foundation.  Have  we  not  been 
somewhat  fearful  in  doing  this?  What  were  we 
afraid  of?  Of  overturning  our  first  principles? 
Whoever  was  afraid  of  that,  it  was  a  vain  fear.  For 
if  they  are  true,  they  will  bear  the  strictest  examina- 
tion. If  they  are  false,  the  sooner  they  are  over- 
turned the  better.  Let  us  all  pray  for  a  willingness  to 
receive   light." 

Where  can  be  found  a  better  statement  of  the  gen- 
uinely liberal  attitude  toward  all  truth  than  this  decla- 
ration of  the  little  company  of  early  Methodists? 
The  conclusions  of  successive  Conferences  were  not 
always  entirely  consistent  with  each  other;  but  the 
result  of  such  deliberations  in  the  course  of  a  few 
years  was  the  progressive  elaboration  of  a  body  of 
practical  divinity,  clearly  stated  and  attested  by  ex- 
perience, that  might  serve  as  a  sufficient  creed  of 
Methodism. 

But  the  attention  of  this  first  Conference  was  occu- 
pied chiefly  with  questions  of  discipline  and  prac- 
tice, especially  with  the  status  and  work  of  the  lay 
preachers.  Of  these  there  were  now  above  forty. 
Wesley,  with  the  approval  of  the  other  members  of 
the  Conference,  drew  up  a  set  of  twelve  rules  for  their 
guidance,  which,  slightly  changed  in  phrase,  remained 
in  force  all  his  life.     Some  of  these  are  excellent  max- 


126  JOHN  WESLEY 

ims  for  general  application;  others  were  framed  with 
special  reference  to  the  dangers  and  temptations  to 
which  Wesley-  knew  these  humble  men  would  be  ex- 
posed. The  following  examples  may  serve  as  speci- 
mens of  both  kinds :  — 

"4.  Believe  evil  of  no  one.  If  you  see  it  done,  well; 
else  take  heed  how  you  credit  it.  Put  the  best  con- 
struction on  everything.  You  know  the  judge  is  al- 
ways supposed  to  be  on  the  prisoner's  side." 

"5.  Speak  evil  of  no  one:  else  your  word  especially 
would  eat  as  doth  a  canker.  Keep  your  thoughts 
within  your  own  breast  till  you  come  to  the  person 
concerned." 

"6.  Tell  every  one  what  you  think  wrong  in  him,  and 
that  plainly,  and  as  soon  as  may  be,  else  it  will  fester 
in  your  heart.  Make  all  haste,  therefore,  to  cast  the 
fire  out  of  your  bosom." 

"7.  Do  nothing  as  a  gentleman:  you  have  no  more 
to  do  with  that  character  than  with  that  of  a  dancing- 
master.     You  are  the  servant  of  all,  therefore 

"8.  Be  ashamed  of  nothing  but  sin:  not  of  fetching 
wood  or  drawing  water,  if  time  permit;  not  of  clean- 
ing your  own  shoes  or  your  neighbor's." 

"12.  Act  in  all  things  not  according  to  your  own  will, 
but  as  a  son  in  the  Gospel.  As  such,  it  is  your  part 
to  employ  your  time  in  the  manner  which  we  direct: 
partly  in  visiting  the  flock  from  house  to  house  (the 
sick  in  particular) ;  partly  in  such  a  course  of  Read- 
ing, Meditation,  and  Prayer  as  we  advise  from  time  to 
time.  Above  all,  if  you  labor  with  us  in  our  Lord's 
Vineyard,  it  is  needful  you  should  do  that  part  of  the 
work  which  we  prescribe,  and  at  those  times  and 
places  which  we  judge  most  for  his  glory." 


THE  EXTENSION   OF  THE  WORK  127 

Three  years  later  the  whole  of  England  and  Wales 
was  divided  into  seven  circuits,  and  each  lay  helper 
was  assigned  to  a  round  of  places  within  a  circuit. 
The  preacher  whose  name  headed  the  list  of  any  cir- 
cuit was  called  the  "assistant"  —  now  termed  "Super- 
intendent"—  and  was  given  general  oversight  of  the 
charges  within  that  circuit,  reporting  at  the  Annual  Con- 
ference. As  the  number  of  the  preachers  increased 
and  their  work  developed,  successive  Conferences 
defined  their  duties  in  more  detail.  They  were  to 
rise  at  four  in  the  morning,  to  preach  not  more  than 
twice  a  day,  except  on  Sundays,  to  avoid  carefully 
anything  rude  or  awkward  in  gesture  and  phrase, 
to  stick  to  the  text  and  not  attempt  to  "allegorize  or 
ramble,"  to  sing  no  hymns  of  their  own  composing. 
They  were  always  to  pay  special  attention  to  the  in- 
struction of  children,  to  denounce  dram  drinking 
and  Sabbath  breaking,  and  to  use  their  best  endeav- 
ors to  prevent  and  punish  smuggling  and  bribery 
at  elections. 

Wesley  well  understood  the  risks  of  intrusting  to 
those  he  himself  called  "a  handful  of  raw  young  men, 
without  name,  learning,  or  eminent  sense,"  the  virtual 
cure  of  souls.  It  was,  he  admitted,  only  to  be  justified 
on  the  plea  of  necessity.  He  felt  it  imperative  to  exer- 
cise on  them  what,  in  other  circumstances,  would  have 
seemed  a  very  exacting  supervision.  As  is  seen  in  the 
last  rule  quoted  above,  they  were  to  be  personally  re- 
sponsible to  him,  to  obey  his  orders,  go  where  he  sent 
them.  He  selected  them  with  care  and  required  every 
one  to  serve  as  a  "local  preacher"  before  he  could  be- 
come an  "itinerant."  He  frequently  gathered  a  num- 
ber of  them  who  could  be  spared  from  their  work  a 


128  JOHN  WESLEY 

little  time  and  read  them  lectures  on  divinity,  or  dis- 
cussed with  them  some  work  on  philosophy  or  rhetoric. 
He  gave  them  individual  suggestions  as  to  the  manner 
of  their  preaching,  and  criticised  sharply  their  faults. 
He  had  a  scholar's  regret  for  their  lack  of  learning, 
but  he  allowed  himself  to  be  consoled  by  the  reflection 
that  most  of  the  rural  clergy  were  little  better  off. 
''How  many  of  them,"  he  cries,  ''know  any  Hebrew? 
Nay,  any  Greek?  Try  them  on  a  paragraph  of  Plato. 
Or  even  see  if  they  can  hobble  through  the  Latin  of 
one  of  Cicero's  Letters?"  In  the  truest  sense,  Wesley 
denied  that  his  preachers  were  ignorant  men.  "In  the 
one  thing  which  they  profess  to  know,  they  are  not  igno- 
rant. I  trust  there  is  not  one  of  them  who  is  not  able 
to  go  through  such  an  examination  in  substantial,  prac- 
tical, experimental  divinity  as  few  of  our  candidates  for 
holy  orders  even  in  the  University  —  I  speak  it  with 
sorrow  and  shame  —  are  able  to  do." 

Certain  it  is  that  most  of  these  comparatively  un- 
lettered lay  preachers,  by  their  native  judgment  and 
force  of  character,  as  well  as  by  their  devoted  piety  and 
tireless  labors,  amply  justified  Wesley's  trust.  Drawn, 
for  the  most  part,  from  the  humbler  class  of  society, 
they  won  the  confidence  and  understood  the  needs  of 
that  class  as  the  regular  clergy  never  could.  Stout  of 
heart  and  of  hand,  the  record  of  their  heroic  effort  and 
still  more  heroic  endurance  reads  like  an  epic  of  the 
people.  Specially  noble  was  their  patience  under  phys- 
ical insult  which  most  of  them  would  have  been  well 
able  to  return  in  kind.  Thomas  Olivers,  on  his  big 
bay  horse,  —  which  he  used  proudly  to  say  had  carried 
him  over  a  hundred  thousand  miles,  —  when  sur- 
rounded by  a  mob  in  Yarmouth,  pushed  his  way  down 


THE  EXTENSION  OF  THE  WORK  129 

one  of  the  narrow  "rows"  to  a  main  street,  and  then, 
disdaining  to  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and  fly  from  the 
howling  crowd,  dodging  the  sticks  and  stones  thrown 
at  him,  walked  his  horse  deliberately  down  the  street 
and  made,  as  he  says,  a  "very  orderly  retreat."  Thomas 
Walsh,  "the  apostle  of  Ireland,"  whose  enthusiastic  de- 
votion burned  his  life  out  at  the  age  of  twenty-eight, 
when  thrown  into  prison  at  Bandon  by  the  rector,  who 
was  also  the  magistrate,  stood  at  his  grated  window 
and  preached  to  the  crowd  outside.  Alexander  Mather, 
a  converted  baker,  nearly  killed  by  a  mob  in  Boston  a 
year  before,  had  the  house  pulled  down  over  his  head 
while  preaching  in  Wolverhampton,  by  a  rabble  led  on 
by  an  attorney  of  the  place.  Mather  made  no  attempt 
at  resistance,  but  next  day  quietly  told  the  attorney  he 
might  take  his  choice  between  rebuilding  the  house  at 
his  own  expense  or  being  tried  for  his  life.  The  attor- 
ney decided  to  rebuild.  Honest  John  Nelson,  hustled 
by  a  mob  in  Nottingham,  was  taken  by  a  constable  for 
examination  before  an  alderman.  "Why  can't  you 
stay  at  home?"  asked  the  alderman;  "you  see  the  mob 
will  not  suffer  you  to  preach  here."  "I  didn't  know 
this  town  was  governed  by  the  mob,"  replied  Nelson; 
"most  towns  are  governed  by  the  magistrates."  "Don't 
preach  here,"  snapped  the  alderman,  as  Nelson  went 
on  to  remind  him  of  the  morals  of  the  city.  "But  God 
opened  my  mouth,"  said  John,  in  telling  the  story  to 
Wesley,  "and  I  did  not  cease  to  set  life  and  death  be- 
fore him,"  until  at  last  the  alderman,  not  knowing  what 
to  do  with  him,  directed  the  constable  to  see  him  safely 
back  to  his  house.  "This,"  adds  Nelson,  "seemed  a 
great  mortification  to  the  constable,  but  he  was  obliged 
to  do  it."     Another  time  he  did  not  escape  from  his 


I30  JOHN  WESLEY 

persecutors  so  easily.  A  big  brute  who  had  vowed  to 
kill  him,  with  a  rabble  of  "gentlemen"  at  his  back,  set 
upon  Nelson  at  a  place  a  little  outside  of  York.  Stout 
stone-mason  John,  who,  with  his  back  against  a  wall 
and  his  good  hammer  in  hand,  might  have  punished  any 
half  dozen  bullies  in  York,  rather  than  provoke  a  gen- 
eral melee,  suffered  himself  to  be  beaten  into  uncon- 
sciousness, when  the  gentlemen,  led  by  the  parson's 
brother,  trampled  on  him  "to  tread  the  Holy  Ghost  out 
of  him,"  dragged  him  through  a  lane  by  his  hair,  knock- 
ing him  down  as  often  as  he  attempted  to  rise,  and 
proposed  to  throw  him  into  a  well.  At  this  point,  how- 
ever, a  woman  passing  by  protested,  calling  a  number 
of  the  "gentlemen"  loudly  by  name.  Finding  them- 
selves recognized,  the  ruffians  skulked  off,  and  Nelson 
was  taken  into  a  house,  and  after  a  night's  rest  recov- 
ered sufficiently  to  ride  away. 

Throughout  the  first  decade  of  Wesley's  itinerant 
work,  he  and  his  preachers  were  constantly  assailed  by 
mobs.  For  six  or  eight  years  after  1742,  there  is  hardly 
a  month  in  which  the  Journal  does  not  record  some  vio- 
lence of  that  kind.  At  the  very  beginning  of  his  out- 
door preaching  in  Bristol  and  London  the  rabble  had 
annoyed  him;  but  the  magistrates  of  those  cities  soon 
took  the  matter  in  hand  and  protected  him  from  further 
serious  disturbance.  Early  in  1740,  the  mayor  of  Bris- 
tol dispersed  a  mob  that  was  growing  formidable,  ar- 
rested their  leaders,  and  placed  them  in  custody.  All 
attempts  to  excuse  themselves  by  defaming  Wesley  he 
promptly  silenced.  "What  John  Wesley  is,  is  nothing 
to  you.  I  will  keep  the  peace ;  I  will  have  no  rioting  in 
this  city."  The  London  magistrates  were  slower  to 
interfere,  and  in  the  course  of  the  year  1741,  the  Foun- 


THE  EXTENSION   OF  THE  WORK  131 

dery  was  several  times  invaded  by  a  bravvfling  crowd, 
which  it  took  all  Wesley's  force  and  tact  to  quiet.  But 
at  the  close  of  that  year,  Sir  John  Ganson,  chairman  of 
the  Middlesex  bench,  called  on  Wesley  and  informed 
him  that,  if  proper  application  were  made,  all  the  Mid- 
dlesex justices  had  been  ordered  to  protect  him  from 
the  annoyances  to  which  he  had  been  subjected.  A 
few  arrests  were  made,  and  thereafter  there  was  no 
trouble  from  mobs  in  London,  Wherever,  indeed, 
throughout  the  island,  the  magistrates  were  ready  to  do 
their  duty,  Wesley  was  seldom  disturbed ;  but  in  most 
of  the  provincial  towns  and  the  rural  villages,  the  mag- 
istrates and  too  often  the  rural  clergy  were  in  more  or 
less  openly  avowed  sympathy  with  the  rioters.  It  is  a 
significant  fact  that  from  the  most  lawless  and  church- 
less  classes  Wesley  met  little  but  kindness.  It  was 
more  often  the  squire  and  the  parson  that  he  had  to 
dread.  The  wild,  half-savage  colliers  of  Kingswood 
and  Newcastle  welcomed  him  gladly;  while  in  scores 
of  country  places  he  was  hustled  by  mobs  who  knew 
the  parson  hated  Methodists  and  was  not  likely  to 
repress  very  sternly  any  measures  to  drive  them  out 
of  town. 

Sometimes  these  disturbances  were  only  the  rough 
horse-play  of  a  crowd  used  to  boisterous  or  cruel  sports, 
drawn  together  by  the  unusual  spectacle  of  a  field 
preacher.  At  Penfield,  for  example,  the  rabble  brought 
a  bull  they  had  been  baiting,  and  tried  to  force  the  ani- 
mal through  the  audience  and  upon  the  table  by  which 
Wesley  stood.  At  Whitechapel  they  drove  cows  among 
the  congregation.  In  other  places  they  blew  horns, 
rang  the  church  bells,  sent  the  town  crier  to  bawl  in 
front  of  the  preacher,  or  hired  fiddlers  and  ballad  sing- 


132  JOHN  WESLEY 

ers  to  drown  his  voice.  Even  in  some  instances  of 
serious  violence,  the  leaders  of  the  mob  apparently  had 
no  special  animosity  to  Wesley  or  his  preaching;  they 
were  simply  spoiling  for  a  fight,  it  did  not  much  matter 
with  whom,  and  the  presence  of  the  obnoxious  Method- 
ists furnished  occasion  for  a  tumult  at  which  the 
magistrates  would  be  likely  to  wink.  In  most  cases, 
however,  the  mobs  were  evidently  malicious,  bent  on 
driving  out  the  Methodists,  and  willing  to  inflict  as 
much  injury  as  they  dared.  The  coolness  of  Wesley 
in  such  encounters  was  amazing.  His  brother  Charles, 
though  he  schooled  himself  to  meet  insult,  confessed 
that  he  was  naturally  timid.  But  John  Wesley  never 
knew  what  fear  meant.  Danger  could  not  even  quicken 
his  pulse.  He  would  have  made  the  coolest  of  officers 
in  action.  Before  the  angriest  mob,  the  quiet  little 
man  never  lost  his  perfect  self-possession.  He  says  in 
the  Journal,  simply,  that  he  has  always  found  it  best 
to  face  a  mob.  A  British  crowd  usually  respects  a 
gentleman,  and  it  always  admires  pluck.  Wesley's 
figure  was  slight,  and  his  presence  not  commanding; 
but  his  calm  self-control,  joined  with  an  unruffled  cour- 
tesy, made  him  almost  invariably  master  of  a  crowd. 
He  had  a  certain  stamp  of  distinction  which  they  in- 
stinctively recognized.  Meeting  one  afternoon  in  Red- 
cliffe  Square  a  noisy  throng  that  threatened  rough 
treatment,  after  a  word  or  two  of  greeting,  he  said, 
"Friends,  let  every  man  do  as  he  pleases,  but  it  is  my 
manner  when  I  speak  of  the  things  of  God,  or  when 
another  does,  to  uncover  my  head,"  which  he  did ;  and 
the  crowd  instantly  did  the  same.  "Then,"  says  he, 
"I  exhorted  them  to  repent  and  believe  the  Gospel." 
Whenever  possible  he  tried  to  single  out  the  leaders  of 


THE  EXTENSION  OF  THE  WORK  133 

a  disturbance  and  addressed  them  personally.  At  St. 
Ives,  in  Cornwall,  for  instance,  as  he  was  preaching  in 
the  evening,  the  mob  of  the  town  broke  into  the  room, 
roaring  and  striking  as  if  possessed  with  devils.  "1 
would  fain  have  persuaded  our  people  to  stand  still," 
says  Wesley,  ''but  the  zeal  of  some  and  the  fear  of 
others  had  no  ears.  So  that,  finding  the  uproar  increas- 
ing, I  went  into  the  midst  and  brought  the  leader  of 
the  mob  with  me  up  to  the  desk.  I  received  but  one 
blow  on  the  side  of  the  head ;  after  which  we  reasoned 
the  case  till  he  grew  milder  and  milder,  and  at  length 
undertook  to  quiet  his  companions."  At  Plymouth, 
after  talking  quarter  of  an  hour  and  finding  the  vio- 
lence of  the  rabble  increasing,  he  walked  down  into  the 
thickest  of  them  and  took  their  captain  courteously  by 
the  hand.  The  fellow  immediately  said:  "Sir,  I  will 
see  you  safe  home.  No  man  shall  touch  you.  Gentle- 
men, stand  back !  I  will  knock  down  the  first  man 
that  touches  him."  "And  so,"  says  Wesley,  "he 
walked  to  my  lodgings,  and  we  parted  in  much  love." 
But  the  crowd  had  followed  them,  and  Wesley  stayed 
in  the  street  a  half  hour  and  talked  with  them  till  they 
went  away,  he  says,  in  high  good  humor.  At  Bolton  a 
howling  crowd,  filled  with  such  rage  as  he  had  never 
seen  before  in  any  creatures  to  be  called  men,  followed 
him  full  cry  to  the  house  where  he  was  to  stay,  and  he 
had  barely  time  to  get  inside  before  the  street  was 
thronged  from  end  to  end.  Just  as  the  stones  began 
to  come  through  the  windows,  the  mob  burst  in  at  the 
door  and  filled  the  lower  rooms.  Wesley  came  down 
from  his  chamber,  walked  into  the  thickest  of  the  tu- 
mult, called  for  a  chair,  and  began  to  talk.  In  a  mo- 
ment they  were  still,  "ashamed,  melted  down,  and 


134  JOHN  WESLEY 

devoured  every  word";  and  Wesley  records  in  the 
Journal  his  thanks  for  the  providence  that  brought  "all 
the  worst  drunkards,  swearers,  Sabbath-breakers,  and 
mere  sinners  of  the  place"  to  hear  the  Gospel.  Not 
infrequently  his  coolness  brought  him  odd  champions. 
In  a  turbulent  meeting  in  London,  a  big  Thames  water- 
man lifted  up  his  brawny  front,  and  squaring  himself  to 
the  audience  called  out:  "That  gentleman  says  nothing 
but  what  is  good.  /  say  so;  and  there  is  not  a  man 
here  that  shall  say  otherwise  !" 

In  Wesley's  accounts  of  these  disturbances  there  is 
often  a  dry  humor,  all  the  more  effective  because  quite 
unconscious.  On  one  occasion  when  a  violent  rabble 
were  assaulting  the  house  where  he  was  staying,  the 
ringleader  in  his  zeal  had  managed  to  crowd  himself 
into  the  house  just  before  the  doors  were  shut  against 
his  followers,  and  thus  found  himself,  alone  with  Wes- 
ley, a  mark  for  the  stones  the  mob  were  pouring  in  at 
all  the  windows.  He  was  hit  once  in  the  forehead,  and 
cowering  behind  Wesley,  cried  out,  "We  shall  be  killed  ! 
What  shall  I  do  !  What  shall  I  do  ! "  " Pray  to  God," 
Wesley  advised,  and  adds  in  telling  the  story,  "He  took 
my  advice  and  began  praying  as  he  had  never  done 
since  he  was  born."  On  another  occasion,  while  stay- 
ing at  a  little  Methodist  inn  at  Holyhead,  their  meeting 
was  disturbed  by  a  certain  Captain  G.,  a  "clumsy,  over- 
grown, hard-faced  man,"  whose  countenance  reminded 
Wesley  of  the  ruffians  in  Macbeth  he  had  seen  at  Drury 
Lane  when  a  boy  at  the  Charterhouse.  Early  in  the 
evening.  Captain  G.,  with  a  drunken  rabble  at  his  heels, 
had  burst  in  the  door,  beaten  the  landlord  and  kicked 
his  wife,  and  blustered  about  the  house  in  a  vain  at- 
tempt to  find  Wesley.     Later  on,  he  returned  more 


THE  EXTENSION   OF  THE  WORK  135 

drunk  than  ever,  but  as  he  came  in  at  the  door  the  land- 
lord's buxom  daughter,  standing  by  with  a  pail  of  water, 
drenched  him  from  head  to  foot.  Unused  to  this  ele- 
ment and  shocked  by  such  sudden  cooling,  he  stood 
stock  still  and  shouted  "Murder!  Murder!"  while 
the  landlord  quietly  slipped  behind  him  and  bolted  the 
door.  Thus  locked  in  with  the  minister,  the  valorous 
captain  turned  very  humble,  but  was  not  allowed  to  go 
out  until  he  had  pledged  his  word  of  honor  to  make  no 
more  disturbance. 

The  most  vicious  mobs  Wesley  had  to  face  were  in 
Cornwall  and  Staffordshire.  When  he  was  in  the 
Cornish  town  of  Falmouth,  in  the  summer  of  the  rebel- 
lion year  1745,  when  the  whole  country  was  in  hourly 
terror  of  invasion,  a  foolish  rumor  was  spread  that  he 
was  a  papist  and  emissary  of  the  Pretender.  An  im- 
mense mob  surged  about  the  house  where  he  was  call- 
ing upon  an  invalid,  shouting  at  the  top  of  their  voices: 
''Bring  out  the  Canorum !  Bring  out  the  Canorum!" 
They  forced  the  outer  door,  and  only  a  thin  partition 
separated  them  from  the  room  where  Wesley  was 
standing.  At  that  moment  he  himself  thought  his  life 
not  worth  an  hour's  purchase.  A  number  of  burly 
privateersmen  put  their  shoulders  against  the  inner 
door  and  forced  it  open.  As  it  fell  in,  Wesley  stepped 
out  and  calmly  said:  "Good  evening.  Here  I  am. 
Which  of  you  has  anything  to  say  to  me?  To  which 
of  you  have  I  done  any  wrong?  To  you?  To  you? 
To  you?"  And  so,  continuing  speaking  as  he  stepped 
forward,  he  reached  the  middle  of  the  street,  and  then 
addressing  the  crowd  said,  "Neighbors,  do  you  wish 
to  hear  me  speak?"  "Yes,  yes,"  the  crowd  yelled, 
"Let  him  speak;  he  shall  speak;  nobody  shall  hinder 


136  JOHN  WESLEY 

him."  A  few  sentences  so  far  placated  the  captains  of 
the  rabble  that  they  swore  nobody  should  hurt  him, 
and  some  gentlemen  of  the  place,  emboldened  by  this 
assurance,  ventured  to  accompany  Wesley  to  his  lodg- 
ing. It  was  thought  unsafe,  however,  for  him  to  go 
into  the  street  again,  and  he  was  advised  to  take  boat 
at  the  rear  of  the  house  where  he  was  staying  and  leave 
town  by  water,  his  horse  being  sent  on  to  meet  him  at 
a  landing-place  some  miles  away.  Some  of  the  crowd 
learned  of  his  escape  and  ran  along  the  shore  to  inter- 
cept him.  As  he  landed,  one  of  the  fiercest  of  them 
stood  to  meet  him  at  the  head  of  a  steep  passage  lead- 
ing up  from  the  water  side.  Wesley  walked  straight 
up  to  him,  and  said  quietly,  "I  wish  you  good  night, 
sir."  "I  wish  you  was  in  hell,"  growled  the  bully, 
while  Wesley  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  on  to  his  next 
preaching  place.  ''I  never  saw  the  hand  of  God  so 
manifest  as  here,"  was  Wesley's  own  comment  upon 
his  danger  and  deliverance. 

But  nowhere  were  the  Methodists  subjected  to  such 
wanton  and  malicious  outrage,  and  probably  nowhere 
was  Wesley  himself  in  so  much  peril  as  in  the  Stafford- 
shire towns  of  Darleston,  Wednesbury,  and  Walsal. 
A  Methodist  society  had  been  formed  in  Wednesbury, 
at  first  with  the  approval  of  the  vicar  of  the  parish. 
But  one  or  two  of  the  Methodists,  with  what  Wesley 
calls  "inexcusable  folly,"  by  speaking  evil  of  the  vicar 
and  the  Church,  had  turned  their  sympathy  into  bitter 
opposition.  The  baser  class,  the  cock-fighting,  bull- 
baiting  rabble  of  this  black  country,  needed  only  this 
encouragement  to  begin  a  determined  persecution  of 
the  Methodists.  In  June,  1743,  there  was  a  week  of 
almost  continuous  riot.     Nearly  every  Methodist  house 


THE  EXTENSION  OF  THE  WORK  137 

in  the  three  towns  had  its  windows  broken  out,  and  in 
many  cases  the  furniture  broken  or  burned;  trades- 
men's shops  were  gutted;  men  were  beaten  senseless, 
and  thrown  into  gutters,  their  wives  and  daughters  ter- 
rified by  profane  threats  of  murder,  and  in  some  few 
instances  injured  by  stones  or  beaten  with  clubs. 
When  application  for  protection  was  made  to  a  magis- 
trate in  Walsal,  he  told  the  Methodists  they  were  them- 
selves responsible  for  the  disturbances  and  refused  their 
application.  Later  on,  he  was  seen  among  the  rioters, 
swinging  his  hat  and  shouting  huzzas.  The  curate  of 
Walsal  looked  on  with  approval. 

Wesley  was  in  London  when  he  heard  of  these  out- 
rages, and  hurried  to  Staffordshire  to  do  anything  in  his 
power  to  stop  them.  But  another  appeal  to  a  magis- 
trate proved  as  futile  as  the  first,  and  the  Methodists 
were  obliged  to  give  up  public  preaching  in  that  neigh- 
borhood for  the  remainder  of  the  summer.  In  Octo- 
ber, however,  Wesley  went  down  again,  and  preached 
one  day  at  noon  in  the  market  place  without  opposition. 
But  an  hour  or  two  sufficed  to  raise  the  mob.  By  four 
o'clock  they  surrounded  the  house  where  he  sat  writing, 
and  shouted,  ''Bring  out  the  minister,  we  will  have  the 
minister!"  Wesley  asked  for  a  parley  with  their 
leader  and  invited  him  to  call  in  also  two  of  his  most 
angry  companions.  They  came  into  the  house,  foam- 
ing with  rage;  but  in  two  minutes  Wesley  had  them 
quiet  as  lambs.  He  then  went  out  with  them  to  the 
midst  of  the  crowd,  and  standing  on  a  chair,  asked 
them  what  they  wished  of  him.  "We  want  you  to  go 
with  us  to  the  justice,"  they  shouted ;  and  when  Wesley 
expressed  his  entire  readiness  to  do  that,  they  ap- 
plauded his  pluck,  "crying  out  with  might  and  main, 


138  JOHN  WESLEY 

'  He  is  an  honest  gentleman,  and  we  will  spill  our  blood 
in  his  defence.'"  They  set  out,  accordingly,  through 
the  rain  and  the  dark  —  for  the  night  was  closing  in  — 
for  the  house  of  Justice  Lane.  But  this  worthy,  who 
a  week  before  had  issued  a  general  warrant  for  the 
apprehension  of  any  of  "those  disorderly  persons  styl- 
ing themselves  Methodist  preachers,"  now  found  it 
convenient  to  be  in  bed,  though  the  hour  was  early, 
and  refused  to  come  out.  His  son,  however,  appeared 
at  the  door,  and  asked  what  was  the  charge  against  the 
prisoner.  One  of  the  crowd  —  who  were  now  evi- 
dently not  very  ill  natured  —  replied,  "To  be  plain,  sir, 
if  I  speak  the  truth,  all  the  fault  I  find  with  him  is  that 
he  preaches  better  than  the  parson."  "Nay,"  said 
another,  "but  it  is  a  downright  shame;  he  makes  peo- 
ple rise  at  five  in  the  morning  to  sing  psalms.  What 
advice  w^ould  your  worship  give  us?"  "Go  home," 
said  young  Lane,  "and  be  quiet."  But  they  were  out 
for  a  night  of  it,  and  decided  to  take  Wesley  before  a 
justice  in  the  next  town  of  Walsal.  Halfway  there, 
they  met  a  mob  from  Walsal,  and  at  once  improved 
the  opportunity  to  spill  a  little  blood  in  defence  of  their 
prisoner.  Wesley's  bodyguard  put  up  a  good  fight, 
one  woman,  as  he  noticed,  knocking  down  four  men; 
but  they  were  tired  and  outnumbered,  and  Wesley  be- 
came the  spoil  of  Walsal.  This  second  mob  dragged 
him  through  the  streets  of  their  town,  yelling  "Knock 
him  down!  Knock  his  brains  out!"  One  lusty  fel- 
low behind  him  struck  at  him  several  times  with  a 
stout  oaken  club,  which,  as  Wesley  says,  if  it  had  but 
once  hit  on  the  back  of  his  head,  would  have  saved  the 
crowd  further  trouble.  Another  ruffian  came  rushing 
through  the  press,  his  arm  raised  to  strike,  but  sud- 


THE  EXTENSION   OF  THE  WORK  139 

denly  dropped  it  and  only  stroked  Wesley's  head,  say- 
ing, ''What  soft  hair  he  has !"  At  last  Wesley  got  per- 
mission to  speak,  before  they  proceeded  to  extremities, 
and  when,  after  a  few  words,  they  were  about  to  hustle 
him  on  again,  he  began  to  pray.  At  this,  the  captain 
of  the  mob,  a  brawny  prize  fighter  from  the  bear  gar- 
den, suddenly  turned  and  said,  "Sir,  I  will  spend  my 
life  for  you.  Follow  me,  and  not  a  soul  here  shall  touch 
a  hair  of  your  head."  And  thus  convoyed,  barely  es- 
caping cudgels  and  stones,  avoiding  a  hostile  crowd 
that  held  a  bridge  by  taking  a  by-path  over  a  dam, 
Wesley  at  last  reached  his  lodgings  safely,  ''having  lost 
only  a  flap  of  my  waistcoat  and  a  little  skin  from  one  of 
my  hands."  Through  it  all,  Wesley  says,  he  had  the 
same  presence  of  mind  as  if  he  had  been  in  his  own 
study.  Only  once  it  came  into  his  thought  that  if  they 
should  throw  him  into  the  river  it  would  spoil  the  pa- 
pers in  his  pocket ;  for  himself,  he  had  on  a  thin  coat 
and  light  boots  and  was  confident  he  could  swim 
ashore.  Next  morning  as  he  rode  through  the  town  on 
his  way  to  Northampton,  he  met  with  such  cordial  ex- 
pressions of  sympathy  that  he  could  scarcely  believe 
last  night's  experiences  to  be  real.  As  for  the  big  prize 
fighter  who  had  championed  him,  five  days  later  he 
/was  admitted  to  the  society  and  was  a  loyal  Methodist 
for  fifty  years.  When  Charles  Wesley  asked  him  what 
he  thought  of  his  brother  John,  "Think  of  him !"  cried 
he;  "I  think  he  is  a  mon  of  God,  and  God  was  on  his 
side  when  so  many  of  us  couldn't  kill  one  mon." 

Certainly  it  is  not  superstition  to  find  something 
supernatural  in  the  religion  which  enabled  these  hum- 
ble Methodists  to  bear  with  such  patience  the  indigni- 
ties to  which  they  were  subjected.     For  these  men  were 


I40  JOHN  WESLEY 

not  cowards.  Most  of  them  came  from  that  tough 
Enghsh  peasant  class  which,  from  the  days  of  Robin 
Hood  down,  has  always  been  able  to  give  a  good  ac- 
count of  itself  wherever  any  fighting  is  to  be  done.  It 
was  admitted  that  there  were  no  better  soldiers  in  the 
English  army  than  the  Methodists  who  at  Fontenoy 
went  into  battle  singing  Wesley's  hymns.  Wesley  him- 
self always  liked  a  soldier  —  discipline  and  energy  were 
in  the  blood  of  him;  and  it  was  with  some  pride  that 
he  heard  a  Colonel  at  Canterbury  say  he  would  rather 
command  five  hundred  Methodists  than  any  regiment 
in  the  army.  But  Wesley  knew  that  any  attempt  to 
resist  persecution  would  only  expose  his  people  to  the 
charge  of  disorder  and  greatly  increase  their  hardships. 
Had  they  struck  a  single  blow  for  themselves,  they 
would  have  given  some  color  to  the  false  accusations 
so  often  made  against  them  and  roused  popular  feel- 
ing to  frenzy.  He  advised  them  to  seek  the  protection 
of  law,  whenever  possible,  but  not  to  resort  to  violence 
in  retaliation  or  even  in  self-defence.  It  is  impossible 
not  to  admire  and  wonder  at  the  self-control  of  people 
so  well  able  to  defend  themselves,  and  prone  by  all  the 
instincts  and  traditions  of  their  class  not  to  take  a  blow 
without  returning  it.  Only  in  the  rarest  instances  was 
the  provocation  too  great  for  endurance.  One  day  as 
Wesley  was  leaving  the  preaching  place  in  Norwich 
with  John  Hampson,  the  brawniest  of  his  lay  preachers, 
some  ruffians  began  to  threaten  them.  Wesley  urged 
Hampson  to  retire,  but  the  preacher  answered  in  his 
big  voice,  "You  let  me  alone,  sir;  if  God  has  not  given 
you  an  arm  to  quell  this  mob,  He  has  given  me  one, 
and  the  first  man  that  molests  you  here,  I  will  lay  him 
dead!"     Sometimes   Methodist   women  did   not   feel 


THE  EXTENSION   OF  THE  WORK  141 

themselves  strictly  bound  to  non-resistance ;  or,  a  sym- 
pathetic bystander  would  interfere  in  behalf  of  the 
preacher.  As  Wesley  was  preaching  in  Bawden,  an 
Irish  town,  a  clergyman  —  a  little  drunk,  Wesley  chari- 
tably thinks  —  with  a  very  large  stick  in  his  hand  began 
to  make  disturbance,  when  two  or  three  resolute  women 
by  main  strength  pulled  him  through  the  house  into  a 
garden ;  and  as  he  began  to  make  maudlin  love  to  one 
of  them,  she  gave  him  a  ringing  cuff  that  brought  him 
to  his  senses.  Another  assailant  came  on  in  great  fury ; 
but  the  town  butcher,  not  a  Methodist,  knocked  him 
down  as  he  would  an  ox.  "This,"  says  Wesley,  "cooled 
his  courage,  and  so  I  quietly  finished  my  discourse." 

How  shall  we  account  for  this  widespread  and  ma- 
lignant opposition  during  the  years  1 740  to  1 745  ?  We 
may,  of  course,  answer  this  question  summarily,  as 
Wesley  did,  by  quoting  the  words  of  the  Master,  "If 
ye  were  of  the  world,  the  world  would  love  its  own; 
but  because  ye  are  not  of  the  world,  therefore  the  world 
hateth  you."  And  doubtless  this  is  the  fundamental 
and  inclusive  reason.  Sin  and  righteousness  are  eter- 
nally at  odds;  and  every  reformer,  unless  he  be  con- 
tent to  effect  what  Carlyle  calls  "a  heaven  and  hell 
amalgamation  society,"  need  expect  little  but  opposi- 
tion from  those  whom  he  endeavors  to  reform.  Yet  it 
is  possible  to  discover  certain  reasons  for  the  special 
malignity  with  which  the  early  Methodists  were  every- 
where assailed.  The  opposition  may  seem,  indeed, 
wanton  and  inexplicable.  The  Methodists  were  every- 
where honest,  industrious,  orderly,  law-abiding  folk. 
The  virtues  that  make  good  citizens  and  good  neigh- 
bors were  the  indispensable  conditions  of  membership 
in  their  societies.     Wesley  himself,  so  far  from  being 


142  JOHN  WESLEY 

an  inflammatory  orator  inciting  people  to  mischievous 
fanaticism,  was  an  educated  gentleman,  courteous  in 
manner,  judicious  and  temperate  in  speech.  He  urged 
on  his  hearers  loyalty  both  to  the  Church  and  State. 
The  best  friend  of  the  poor,  he  was  active  in  all  philan- 
thropic and  charitable  work,  and  especially  interested 
in  all  that  pertained  to  the  welfare  df  the  lower  and 
more  unfortunate  classes.  Such  people,  led  by  such  a 
man,  it  should  seem,  ought  from  the  first  to  have  won 
love  rather  than  provoked  angry  contempt;  and  it 
certainly  might  have  been  expected  that  the  legal  au- 
thorities would  protect  them  rather  than  screen  their 
adversaries. 

Doubtless,  as  has  been  already  said,  a  good  deal  of 
the  rioting  must  be  laid  to  the  charge  of  that  turbulent 
element  at  the  bottom  of  society  which  is  always  ready 
for  any  form  of  rough  or  brutal  excitement.  They 
baited  Wesley's  preachers  as  they  would  bait  a  bull; 
not  because  they  had  any  hatred  of  the  preachers  or  of 
the  bull,  but  because  they  liked  the  sport.  The  world 
is  better  policed  now ;  but  even  yet  any  revolution  that 
breaks  the  crust  of  society  is  liable  to  disclose  an  ele- 
ment of  sheer  brutality;  in  rural  England,  at  the  mid- 
dle of  the  eighteenth  century,  that  element  was  very 
large,  and  only  a  little  way  below  the  surface.  More- 
over this  ignorant  and  brutalized  class  is  always  stu- 
pidly conservative.  They  have  an  obstinate  prejudice 
against  any  aggressive  novelty,  and  are  sure  to  resent 
the  assumption  of  superiority  implied  in  any  attempt 
to  teach  or  to  reform  them.  In  this  case,  the  inevitable 
prejudice  was  increased  when  members  of  their  own 
class,  in  considerable  numbers,  separated  themselves 
from  their  old  companionship,  united  themselves  in 


THE  EXTENSION   OF  THE  WORK  143 

societies,  and  professed  a  new  kind  of  religion  better 
than  the  parson's  or  the  squire's.  Such  a  prejudice 
naturally  grows  into  the  envy  and  malice  that,  in  the 
upper  classes,  led  a  man  to  sneer,  in  the  lower  classes 
to  strike.  Yet  the  opposition  in  the  lowest  classes 
would  hardly  have  dared  to  be  violent,  had  it  not  been 
tacitly,  and  in  some  cases  openly,  encouraged  by  the 
clergy  and  the  magistrates.  Everybody  knew  that  the 
Church  frowned  upon  the  Methodists.  Wesley,  it  is 
true,  urged  his  people  to  go  to  church;  but  usually 
without  much  success.  The  Church  had  always  neg- 
lected them ;  it  was  inevitable  that  they  should  neglect 
the  Church.  The  parish  clergy,  in  almost  every  in- 
stance, looked  with  dislike  and  suspicion  on  the  irregu- 
lar societies,  with  a  form  of  organization  unknown  to 
the  Establishment,  neglecting  the  ritual,  preached  to  by 
unschooled  rustics  who  owned  allegiance  only  to  an  itin- 
erant Fellow  of  Lincoln  College.  The  very  existence 
of  such  societies  implied  that  the  Church  had  been  re- 
miss in  its  duty.  The  Methodists  in  many  instances, 
in  spite  of  the  exhortations  of  Wesley,  probably  re- 
turned this  dislike,  and  were  guilty  of  serious  indiscre- 
tions in  their  language  with  reference  to  the  clergy  of 
the  Church.  Refusing  to  accept  the  position  of  dis- 
senters, they  seemed  to  the  clergy  resolved  to  remain 
an  element  of  ignorance  and  faction  within  the  Church 
which  they  condemned.  English  magistrates,  in  the 
first  half  of  the  century,  at  all  events  in  the  country 
and  the  provincial  towns,  were  pretty  sure  to  think  as 
the  clergy  thought  on  all  churchly  matters,  and  were 
almost  uniformly  at  one  with  them  in  their  dislike  of 
Methodists.  From  such  opinions  entertained  by  their 
superiors,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  the  vicious  and  ignorant 


144  JOHN  WESLEY 

rabble  would  draw  encouragement  for  any  outrages 
their  envy  or  malice  might  suggest.  The  Methodists 
were  practically  defenceless.  One  other  cause,  pecul- 
iar to  that  time,  probably  increased,  in  many  instances, 
the  aversion  to  Methodists.  Wesley  and  his  preachers 
were  frequently  suspected  of  being  papists;  and  in 
those  years  just  before  the  rebellion  of  '45,  the  first 
suspicion  of  Romish  leanings  rendered  any  man  an  ob- 
ject of  dread  and  often  provoked  insult.  The  Method- 
ists, at  first  thought,  would  seem  to  have  resembled 
Puritans  much  more  nearly  than  papists;  yet  there 
were  not  wanting  some  things  in  their  organization  and 
methods  that  might  awaken  apprehension  in  ignorant 
and  prejudiced  people.  Their  societies,  if  not  secret, 
were  private,  meeting  usually  by  night  in  private  houses ; 
the  class-meeting  was  understood  to  be  a  modification 
of  the  Romish  confessional.  Who  were  these  lay 
preachers,  staying  for  a  short  time  in  a  place  and  then 
moving  quietly  on  elsewhere?  And  who  was  the 
smooth,  courteous  cleric  to  whom  they  were  all  said 
to  be  personally  responsible,  and  who  was  constantly 
passing  from  one  end  of  the  island  to  the  other  ?  It  all 
looked  very  like  some  sort  of  order  or  brotherhood ; 
and  of  religious  orders  and  brotherhoods  the  English 
people  for  more  than  a  century  had  been  very  mistrust- 
ful. In  the  early  months  of  1744,  when  England  was 
expecting  immediate  invasion,  the  report  was  circulated 
that  Wesley  had  recently  been  seen  with  Charles  Ed- 
ward in  France ;  and,  absurd  as  the  rumor  was,  Wesley 
hesitated  to  give  it  color  by  leaving  London  just  at  a 
time  when  all  Roman  Catholics  had  been  ordered  out 
of  the  city  by  royal  proclamation.  In  March  of  that 
year  he  prepared  a  Petition  to  the  King,  in  the  name  of 


THE  EXTENSION   OF  THE  WORK  145 

the  Methodists,  "a  people  scattered  and  pestered  and 
trodden  under  foot,"  defending  them  from  any  asper- 
sions on  their  loyalty  and  asserting  in  unqualified  terms 
their  allegiance  to  the  Church  and  the  Crown,  and  their 
abhorrence  of  the  doctrines  of  Rome.  He  withheld 
this  paper,  it  is  true,  but  only  because  his  brother 
Charles  urged  that  it  seemed  to  admit  the  Methodists 
to  be,  in  some  sort,  a  sect.  Charles  Wesley,  himself, 
in  one  of  the  Yorkshire  open-air  services  that  summer, 
happened  to  introduce  into  his  prayer  the  request  that 
"the  Lord  would  call  home  his  banished"  —  and  found 
himself  immediately  summoned  before  a  magistrate  on 
a  charge  of  favoring  the  Pretender.  As  the  witness 
failed  to  appear,  the  magistrate,  after  keeping  him  wait- 
ing eight  hours,  told  him  there  was  nothing  against 
him  and  he  might  go.  "But,"  said  Wesley,  "this  is 
not  sufficient.  It  is  no  trifling  matter.  Even  my  life 
is  concerned  in  this  charge."  And  only  when  the  jus- 
tice acknowledged  in  explicit  terms  that  his  loyalty  was 
unquestionable,  would  he  take  his  leave.  In  fact,  both 
the  Wesleys  were  the  stanchest  of  patriots;  but  in  a 
time  of  unusual  apprehension,  any  hints  as  to  the  Rom- 
ish practices  or  sympathies  of  the  Methodists  were  natu- 
rally caught  up  by  the  turbulent  populace  as  a  pretext 
for  insult  and  outrage. 

After  about  1750  the  assaults  of  mobs  grew  fewer, 
and  gradually  ceased  altogether.  Many  of  the  class 
from  which  the  mob  were  drawn  were  now  themselves 
members  of  Wesley's  societies,  while  the  general  re- 
sults of  the  Methodist  movement  in  temperance,  hon- 
esty, order,  and  thrift  were  now  so  manifest  that  there 
was  no  longer  any  pretext  for  popular  opposition.  As 
Wesley  said,  "When  the  clergy  and  gentry  would  no 


146  JOHN  WESLEY 

longer  lead  or  pay  the  mob,  the  poor  rabble  became 
quiet  as  lambs."  When  disturbances  now  and  then 
occurred,  they  were  promptly  quieted  by  the  magistrates, 
or  by  those  whom  Wesley  calls  his  "una wakened  hear- 
ers,"—  a  class  to  whose  aid  in  keeping  order  he  often 
acknowledges  his  obligations. 

But  for  the  vulgar  opposition  of  mobs,  Wesley  felt, 
after  all,  very  little  concern.  From  them  he  expected 
nothing  better.  When  a  boy  in  his  father's  rectory  he 
had  probably  learned  a  good  deal  about  the  temper  of 
the  English  lower  classes,  and  he  knew  how  to  meet  it. 
He  was  confident,  moreover,  that  the  hostility  of  those 
classes  would  cease  as  they  came  to  appreciate  his  work, 
and  that  he  should  find  among  them,  as  he  did,  his 
warmest  supporters.  But  it  was  a  difficult  thing  to 
encounter  the  opposition,  always  bitter  and  often  con- 
temptuous, of  those  from  whom  he  had  a  right  to 
expect  sympathy  and  encouragement,  if  not  active  co- 
operation. For  more  than  a  score  of  years,  the  Church, 
blind  to  her  great  opportunity,  had  no  sympathy  for 
him,  no  recognition  for  his  work.  Her  pulpits  were 
closed  to  him,  her  clergy  regarded  him  with  suspicion, 
often  with  the  most  outspoken  hostility.  The  latest 
bibliography  of  the  Wesleyan  Movement  ^  gives  the 
titles  of  three  hundred  and  thirty-two  Anti-Methodist 
books  and  pamphlets  published  before  1762,  and  nearly 
all  of  them  are  by  Churchmen.  Nor  was  the  opposi- 
tion usually  reasoned  and  temperate.  Wesley's  temper 
and  motives  were  wilfully  misinterpreted,  his  work 
misrepresented,  his  character  vilified.     Naturally  con- 

1  Anti-Methodist  Publications  issued  during  the  eighteenth  century. 
By  Rev.  Richard  Green,  London,  1902. 


THE  EXTENSION  OF  THE  WORK  147 

servative  and  order-loving,  he  was  accused  of  upsetting 
all  reverend  traditions  and  becoming  usages;  clear- 
headed, logical,  hating  enthusiasm,  he  was  accused  of- 
spreading  an  irrational  frenzy  over  the  country  and  turn- 
ing the  heads  of  the  vulgar;  the  most  frugal  and  the 
most  generous  of  men,  he  was  accused  of  preaching 
the  Gospel  for  gain,  and  grasping  the  scanty  contribu- 
tions of  the  poor;  always  loyal  to  his  King  and  his 
Church,  he  was  accused  of  being  a  Jesuit,  a  papist  in 
disguise,  and  probably  an  emissary  of  the  Pretender. 
And  these  accusations  came  not  from  the  ignorant  and 
credulous  populace,  nor  yet  from  the  contemptuous 
world  of  fashion  and  licentiousness;  they  came  from 
those  who  should  have  been  his  helpers  and  allies; 
some  of  the  worst  of  them  came  from  bishops  of  his 
own  Church. 

His  logical  habit  of  thought,  strengthened  by  his  long 
training  as  Moderator  of  the  classes  in  Lincoln  College, 
made  Wesley  a  skilful  debater;  but  he  had  no  liking 
for  controversy.  He  knew  that  there  is  no  such  foe  to 
charity.  And  he  knew  that  theological  controversy  is, 
of  all  kinds,  the  most  bitter.  In  his  first  strictly  polemic 
tract  —  a  reply  to  Rev.  Josiah  Tucker  of  Bristol  —  he 
deprecates  the  temper  which  usually  leads  either  party 
to  a  debate  to  think  that,  like  a  soldier,  he  must  injure 
his  opponent  as  much  as  he  can ;  and  he  avows  that  he 
enters  into  a  personal  discussion  with  great  fear,  not 
of  his  adversary,  but  of  his  own  spirit.  In  another 
pamphlet  he  quotes  with  approval  the  saying  of  an  old 
divine  that  ''God  made  practical  divinity  necessary; 
the  devil,  controversial."  "But,"  he  adds,  "it  is  some- 
times necessary;  if  we  do  not  resist  the  devil,  he  will 
not  flee  from  us."     Obviously  so.     To  have  remained 


148  JOHN  WESLEY 

silent  under  the  multitude  of  accusations  brou2;ht 
against  him  during  the  early  years  of  his  wider  work 
would  have  been  a  confession  of  weakness  or  of  error. 
For  mere  personal  defamation,  indeed,  he  cared  little ; 
but  he  was  keenly  sensitive  to  charges,  coming  from 
eminent  men  in  his  own  Church,  that  impugned  his 
teaching  and  undermined  his  influence  for  good.  But 
it  is  proof  of  his  Christian  courage  and  Christian  self- 
restraint  that  in  all  his  controversial  writing  —  with, 
perhaps,  a  single  very  excusable  exception  —  he  did 
not  lose  his  temper,  and  would  not  be  goaded  into  bit- 
terness or  discourtesy. 

Of  the  multitudes  of  pamphleteers  who  had  their 
fling  at  the  Methodists,  only  four  or  five  were  deemed 
by  Wesley  of  sufficient  importance  to  demand  personal 
reply.  The  most  prominent  of  his  early  critics,  and 
the  one  whose  opposition  Wesley  himself  most  regretted, 
was  Gibson,  Bishop  of  London.  Gibson  was  a  learned 
and  pious  man,  but  timid,  conciliatory,  and  now  getting 
into  the  seventies.  His  memory  ran  back  toward  the 
troublous  times  of  the  Commonwealth  and  Restoration, 
and  he  was  fearful  of  anything  that  might  again  disturb 
the  dignified  quiet  of  the  Church.  He  always  contrived 
to  find  some  Media  via  that  would  lead  him  out  of  con- 
troversy, and  on  all  disputed  matters  was  inclined  to 
the  opinion  of  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  that  "much  might 
be  said  on  both  sides."  When  John  and  Charles  Wes- 
ley called  on  him,  in  1738,  to  inquire  whether  the  reli- 
gious societies  were  conventicles  or  not,  the  bishop,  says 
Charles,  "warily  referred  us  to  the  law."  Of  course, 
the  interpretation  of  the  law  in  the  case  was  just  the 
question  that  the  Wesleys  wished  decided,  as  Gibson 
very  well  knew;    but  when  pressed  for  a  definite  an- 


THE  EXTENSION  OF  THE  WORK  149 

swer  he  refused  to  commit  himself.  To  the  point- 
blank  query,  ''Are  the  societies  conventicles?"  he  re- 
plied, "I  think  not;  however,  you  can  read  the  Acts 
and  laws  as  well  as  I.  I  determine  nothing."  At 
midsummer  of  the  next  year,  1739,  just  after  Wesley 
had  begun  his  field  preaching,  and  when  Whitefield 
was  addressing  vast  audiences  in  and  near  London, 
the  timorous  bishop  issued  a  pastoral  letter,  "By  way 
of  caution  against  Lukewarmness  on  the  one  hand  and 
Enthusiasm  on  the  other,"  —  a  paper  that  makes  it 
clear  he  was  getting  to  be  a  great  deal  more  afraid  of 
the  Enthusiasm  than  of  the  Lukewarmness.  As  the 
Methodist  movement  spread  over  the  island  the  hostil- 
ity of  the  bishop  became  more  pronounced.  He  re- 
peated the  caution  against  enthusiasm  in  his  charge  of 
1 741,  and  three  years  later  either  wrote  himself,  or  at 
all  events  sanctioned,  an  anonymous  pamphlet,  "Obser- 
vations on  the  Conduct  and  Behavior  of  a  Certain  Sect 
usually  distinguished  by  the  name  of  Methodist."  The 
later  parts  of  this  pamphlet  are  aimed  especially  at 
Whitefield,  who  is  severely  censured ;  but  in  the  first 
part  the  Methodists  in  general  are  denounced  as  sec- 
taries all  the  more  dangerous  because  they  shield  them- 
selves from  legal  attack  within  the  Church  whose 
discipline  and  formularies  they  constantly  violate.  Thus 
far  Wesley  saw  no  reason  for  personal  reply ;  but  in  his 
published  charge  of  1747  the  bishop  made  an  arraign- 
ment of  the  Methodists  which  Wesley  felt  he  ought  not 
to  leave  unanswered.  The  Methodists,  the  bishop  now 
declares,  are  enemies  of  the  Church,  "who  give  shame- 
ful disturbance  to  the  parochial  clergy,  and  use  very 
unwarrantable  methods  to  prejudice  their  people  against 
them,  and  to  seduce  their  flocks  from  them,"  and  who 


I50  JOHN  WESLEY 

profess  and  teach  "doctrines  big  with  pernicious  influ- 
ence upon  practice."  Wesley's  letter  to  the  Bishop  of 
London,  in  reply  to  these  accusations,  is  one  of  the 
best  specimens  of  his  controversial  writing.  He  does 
not  forget  the  respect  due  the  bishop  and  his  office ;  but 
he  defends  the  doctrine  and  the  practice  of  the  Method- 
ists with  a  cogent  earnestness  that  rises  at  the  close  of 
the  paper  to  the  level  of  sadly  solemn  eloquence.  A 
short  passage  will  show  both  the  nature  of  the  argu- 
ment with  which  Wesley  met  the  bishop's  main  accusa- 
tion, and  the  temper  in  which  that  argument  is  urged. 

"But  do  we  willingly  'annoy  the  established  minis- 
try,' or  'give  disturbance  to  the  parochial  clergy'  ?  My 
lord,  we  do  not.  We  trust  herein  to  have  a  conscience 
void  of  offence.  Nor  do  we  designedly  'prejudice  peo- 
ple against  them.'  In  this  also  our  heart  condemneth 
us  not.  But  you  'seduce  their  flocks  from  them.'  No, 
not  even  from  those  who  feed  themselves,  not  the  flock. 
All  who  hear  us  attend  the  services  of  the  church,  at 
least  as  much  as  they  did  before.  And  for  this  very 
thing,  we  are  reproached  as  bigots  to  the  church,  by 
those  of  most  other  denominations.  ...  It  is  not  our 
care,  endeavor,  or  desire  to  proselyte  any  from  one  man 
to  another,  or  from  one  church  (so  called),  from  one 
congregation  or  society  to  another  (we  would  not  move 
a  finger  to  do  this  —  to  make  ten  thousand  such  prose- 
lytes), but  from  darkness  to  light,  from  Belial  to  Christ, 
from  the  power  of  Satan  to  God.  ...  I  would  fain 
set  this  point  in  a  clear  light.  Here  are,  in  and  near 
Moorfields,  ten  thousand  poor  souls  for  whom  Christ 
died  rushing  headlong  into  hell.  Is  Dr.  Bulkeley,  the 
parochial  minister,  both  willing  and  able  to  stop  them  ? 
If  so,  let  it  be  done,  and  I  have  no  place  in  these  parts. 
I  go  and  call  other  sinners  to  repentance.  But  if,  after 
all  he  has  done,  and  all  he  can  do,  they  are  still  in  the 
broad  way  to  destruction,  let  me  see  if  God  will  put  a 


THE  EXTENSION  OF  THE  WORK  151 

word,  even  in  my  mouth.  ...  Is  this  any  annoyance 
to  the  parochial  minister  ?  Then  what  manner  of  spirit 
is  he  of  ?  Does  he  look  on  this  part  of  his  flock  as  lost 
because  they  are  found  of  the  great  Shepherd?  My 
lord,  great  is  my  boldness  toward  you.  You  speak  of 
the  consequences  of  our  doctrines.  You  seem  well 
pleased  with  the  success  of  your  endeavors  against 
them,  because  (you  say)  they  'have  pernicious  conse- 
quences, are  big  with  pernicious  influences  upon  prac- 
tice —  dangerous  to  religion  and  the  souls  of  men.'  In 
answer  to  all  this,  I  appeal  to  plain  fact.  I  say  once 
more.  What  have  been  the  consequences  (I  would  not 
speak,  but  dare  not  refrain)  of  the  doctrines  I  have 
preached  for  nine  years  past?  By  the  fruits  shall  ye 
know  those  of  whom  I  speak;  even  the  cloud  of  wit- 
nesses who  at  this  hour  experience  the  gospel  which  I 
preach  to  be  the  power  of  God  unto  salvation.  The 
habitual  drunkard,  that  was,  is  now  temperate  in  all 
things.  The  whoremonger  now  flees  fornication.  He 
that  stole  steals  no  more,  but  works  with  his  hands. 
He  that  cursed  or  swore,  perhaps  at  every  sentence,  has 
now  learned  to  serve  the  Lord  with  fear,  and  rejoice 
unto  him  with  reverence.  Those  formerly  enslaved  to 
various  habits  of  sin,  are  now  brought  to  uniform  hab- 
its of  holiness.  These  are  demonstrable  facts.  I  can 
name  the  men,  with  their  places  of  abode.  .  .  .  My 
lord,  the  time  is  short.  I  am  past  the  noon  of  life,  and 
my  remaining  days  flee  away  as  a  shadow.  Your  lord- 
ship is  old  and  fuH  of  days.  It  cannot,  therefore,  be 
long  before  we  shall  both  drop  this  house  of  earth  and 
stand  naked  before  God;  no,  nor  before  we  shall  see 
the  great  white  throne  coming  down  from  heaven  and 
he  that  sitteth  thereon.  .  .  .  Will  you  then  rejoice  in 
your  success  ?  The  Lord  God  grant  it  may  not  be  said 
in  that  hour,  'These  have  perished  in  their  iniquity: 
but  their  blood  I  require  at  thy  hands.'" 

The    next   episcopal    attack    upon    the    Methodists 
was  of  a  very  different  sort,  and  was  answered  by 


152  JOHN  WESLEY 

Wesley  in  a  very  different  manner.  George  Laving- 
ton,  Bishop  of  Exeter,  one  must  judge,  had  httle 
learning  and  less  piety  —  an  essentially  vulgar,  bois- 
terous, buffoonish  man,  whose  writing  in  style  and 
argument  was  rather  below  the  level  of  a  Grub 
Street  pamphleteer.  In  1749  he  pubHshed  in  two 
parts  a  pamphlet  entitled  "The  Enthusiasm  of  Meth- 
odists and  Papists  Compared,"  calculated  —  if  not 
deliberately  intended  —  to  countenance  the  absurd 
calumny  that  Wesley  and  Whitefield  were  papists  in 
disguise.  Selecting  numerous  passages  from  Wes- 
ley's Journal  wrested  from  their  context,  garbled  and 
misinterpreted  in  various  ways,  Lavington  sets  beside 
them  extravagant  passages  from  the  lives  of  the 
saints  to  show  that  the  worst  instances  of  Romish 
fanaticism  and  superstition  are  surpassed  in  the  con- 
duct of  Wesley  and  his  followers.  Seldom  has  a 
more  scurrilous  piece  of  abuse  disgraced  the  highest 
office  of  the  Church.  Although  its  authorship  was 
generally  known,  the  pamphlet  was  anonymous,  and 
Wesley,  therefore,  did  not  feel  bound  to  observe  in 
his  reply  all  the  deference  due  a  bishop.  For  once 
he  allows  himself  some  passages  that  make  very  inter- 
esting reading  for  the  natural  man,  but  are  hardly 
in  his  usual  tone.  The  bishop's  abuse  of  facts,  his 
bad  logic,  even  his  bad  grammar,  all  are  mercilessly 
exposed;  while  some  of  his  gravest  charges  Wesley 
refuses  to  discuss  till  this  Christian  bishop  can  show 
*'a  little  heathen  honesty"  and  a  little  more  ac- 
quaintance with  "those  old  enthusiasts,"  the  writers 
of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments.  He  closes  with  an 
indignant  challenge  to  his  critic  to  drop  his  mask. 
"Any  scribbler,  with  a  middling  share  of  low  wit,  not 


THE  EXTENSION  OF  THE  WORK  153 

encumbered  with  good  nature  or  modesty,  may  raise 
a  laugh  on  those  whom  he  cannot  confute,  and  run 
them  down  whom  he  dares  not  look  in  the  face.  By 
these  means,  even  a  comparer  of  Methodists  and 
Papists  may  blaspheme  the  great  work  of  God,  not 
only  without  blame,  but  with  applause;  at  least  from 
readers  of  his  own  stamp.  But  it  is  high  time,  Sir, 
you  should  leave  your  skulking  place.  Come  out 
and  let  us  look  each  other  in  the  face.  I  have  little 
leisure  and  less  inclination  for  controversy.  Yet  I 
promise,  if  you  will  set  your  name  to  your  third  part, 
I  will  answer  all  that  shall  concern  me." 

The  bishop  did  not  choose  to  accept  this  challenge; 
his  ''third  part,"  issued  as  a  separate  volume,  in  1752, 
is  still  anonymous.  This  part  is  devoted  almost  en- 
tirely to  Wesley.  Lavington  does  not  attempt  any 
rejoinder  to  Wesley's  "Letter,"  which,  he  says,  is 
''a  medley  of  chicanery,  sophistry,  prevarication, 
evasion,  pertness,  conceitedness,  scurrility,  sauciness, 
and  effrontery  "  that  time  and  paper  would  be  wasted 
upon;  he  contents  himself,  after  this  courteous  intro- 
duction, with  bringing  together  a  number  of  quota- 
tions from  Wesley's  writings  —  especially  from  the 
Journal  —  to  show  that  the  Methodists  in  general 
and  Wesley  in  particular  are  boastful,  hypocritical, 
crafty,  and  fanatical.  The  bishop  is  angry,  and  his 
statements  are  even  more  ribald  and  reckless  than 
those  of  his  previous  pamphlets.  Wesley  probably 
should  have  passed  by  the  attack  in  dignified  or  con- 
temptuous silence;  and  perhaps  he  would  have  done 
so,  had  it  not  been  for  the  promise  with  which  his 
''Letter"  closed.  As  it  was,  he  felt  obliged  to  the 
weary  task   of   taking   up   the   bishop's  specifications 


154  JOHN  WESLEY 

one  by  one  and  exposing  their  falsity.  At  the  end, 
he  draws  a  long  breath  and  declares  that  not  a  single 
article  of  the  bishop's  charge  is  true :  that  not  one  of 
his  arguments  has  any  force;  that  the  bishop  knows 
they  have  not,  and  doesn't  himself  believe  his  own 
conclusions.  Southey  remarks,  truly  enough,  that 
Wesley's  Letters  to  Lavington  do  not  show  the  urban- 
ity that  characterizes  his  other  controversial  writing; 
it  was  hardly  possible  to  be  urbane  in  reply  to  an  oppo- 
nent who  was  equally  careless  of  truth  and  of  courtesy, 
and  who  treated  the  most  serious  subjects,  as  Wesley 
said,  in  the  "temper  of  a  merry-andrew. "  Yet 
Wesley  cherished  for  Lavington  no  bitter  nor  lasting 
resentment;  it  is  pleasant  to  read  in  the  Journal  for 
September  29,  1762,  after  these  days  of  bitter  contro- 
versy were  long  past,  "I  was  well  pleased  to-day  to 
partake  of  the  sacrament  with  my  old  opponent, 
Bishop  Lavington.  O  may  we  sit  down  together  in 
the  Kingdom  of  our  Father." 

Ten  years  after  the  Lavington  controversy,  Wesley 
was  again  attacked  by  a  bishop.  Warburton,  Bishop 
of  Gloucester,  the  doughty  champion  of  orthodoxy 
who  for  twenty  years  had  been  swinging  his  theo- 
logical cudgel  over  the  heads  of  all  who  differed  with 
him,  now  turned  his  attention  to  Wesley.  In  his 
treatise  on  the  "Office  and  Operation  of  the  Holy 
Spirit" — a  subject  which  this  hard-headed,  mun- 
dane, pugnacious  rationalist  was  not  likely  to  treat 
with  sympathy  —  he  argued  that  the  supernatural 
operations  of  the  Spirit  were  no  longer  to  be  expected. 
We  now  live  under  the  rule  of  faith.  Miracles,  once 
needed  to  attest  a  divine  revelation,  now  no  longer 
occur.     The   belief   in   them   is  fanaticism  —  an   evi- 


THE  EXTENSION  OF  THE  WORK  155 

dence  of  feeble  intelligence  and  disordered  imagina- 
tion. He  then  turns  to  Wesley  as  the  best  example 
of  this  modern  fanaticism,  and  from  the  sixteen  years' 
experience  recorded  in  the  Journal  cites  a  large  num- 
ber of  passages  to  prove  that  Wesley  claimed  for  him- 
self almost  all  the  miraculous  gifts  of  the  apostles. 
Warburton  was  always  a  swash-buckler  in  contro- 
versy, and  he  had  seldom  been  more  hardy  and  reck- 
less in  statement.  Before  he  is  through,  he  accuses 
Wesley  directly  and  by  implication,  not  only  of  cre- 
dulity and  enthusiasm,  but  also  of  the  vanity,  vindic- 
tiveness,  and  hypocrisy  which  are  the  natural  fruits 
of  fanaticism.  Yet,  at  all  events,  Warburton  did  not 
hide  behind  an  anonymous  title-page ;  he  often  fought, 
it  is  evident,  for  the  love  of  fighting  and  the  pride  of 
championship,  but  he  fought  in  the  open.  And  his 
charges,  in  this  case,  though  false  and  reckless,  were 
urged  seriously;  to  a  bellicose  temper  like  his,  they 
may  have  seemed  fair. 

Wesley's  "Letter"  in  reply  is  temperate  and  cour- 
teous. The  reader  of  to-day  will  doubtless  wish  that 
in  this,  as  in  some  of  his  other  papers,  he  had  been 
less  fussily  careful  to  discuss  every  one  of  the  passages 
cited  against  him  and  had  confined  himself  to  the 
larger  questions  at  issue.  For  his  defence  was  easy. 
That  he  was  credulous  need  not  he  denied  —  some- 
thing more  must  be  said  of  that  on  a  later  page. 
There  are  certainly  many  incidents  in  the  Journal 
that  do  not  demand  the  supernatural  explanation 
Wesley  was  inclined  to  give  them;  some  might  well 
have  been  omitted.  But  it  is  to  be  remembered  that 
Wesley  never  imposed  his  own  explanation  upon  any 
one  else ;  still  less  did  he  ever  ascribe  any  strange  phe- 


156  JOHN  WESLEY 

nomena  to  special  gifts  of  his  own,  or  urge  them  in 
proof  of  the  doctrines  he  taught.  The  one  proof  of 
a  divine  sanction  upon  his  work  he  found  in  that  abso- 
lute and  often  sudden  change  of  temper  and  desire 
which  turned  thousands  of  those  to  whom  he  preached 
from  vice  to  virtue,  from  a  life  of  sin  to  a  life  of 
righteousness.  This,  call  it  conversion,  the  new 
birth,  or  what  you  will,  was  an  indisputable  fact. 
If  it  was  a  miracle,  it  was  such  a  miracle  as  had  at- 
tended the  preaching  of  the  Gospel  in  every  age,  and 
a  miracle  that  the  Christian  Church  could  never  afford 
to  disavow  or  depreciate. 

These  Letters  to  the  three  bishops,  together  with 
two  pamphlets  in  reply  to  some  calm  and  courteous 
criticisms  from  a  Rev.  Thomas  Church  of  London, 
are  all  of  Wesley's  papers  of  personal  controversy 
that  have  much  importance.  More  interesting,  how- 
ever, and  more  valuable  than  this  purely  polemic 
writing,  is  the  tract  issued  in  1743,  under  the  title 
"An  Earnest  Appeal  to  Men  of  Reason  and  Reli- 
gion," with  a  supplement  —  "A  Further  Appeal"  — 
which  followed  in  1745.  These  two  papers,  as  their 
title  indicates,  are  a  calm,  well-reasoned,  but  vigorous 
defence  of  the  people  called  Methodists.  Wesley 
welcomes,  nay  demands,  the  decision  of  reason.  He 
always  had  to  the  full  the  eighteenth-century  respect 
for  logic  and  common-sense.  ''The  reproach  of 
Christ,"  he  wrote  once,  "I  am  willing  to  bear;  but 
not  the  reproach  of  enthusiasm  —  if  I  can  help  it. " 
He  challenges  those  who  accept  the  central  truths  of 
Christianity  to  show  any  point  wherein  the  Method- 
ist teaching  is  inconsistent  with  those  truths;  and 
he  shows  that,  so  far  from  being  fanatical  or  schis- 


THE  EXTENSION  OF  THE  WORK  157 

matic,  it  is  the  Methodists,  and  not  their  accusers, 
who  best  exempHfy  the  doctrines  and  obey  the  rules 
of  the  Enghsh  Church.  As  to  the  absurd  calumny 
that  he  himself  was  making  gain  from  the  move- 
ment, he  answers  that  by  stating  the  simple  fact  that 
not  a  penny  of  the  contributions  of  the  Methodists 
came  into  his  hands,  but  that,  on  the  contrary,  he  had 
himself  assumed  a  debt  of  some  six  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds  to  provide  them  with  preaching  houses 
in  London  and  Bristol.  "Why,"  he  asks  indignantly, 
"should  any  man  who  has  all  the  conveniences  and 
many  of  the  superfluities  of  life  deliberately  throw  up 
his  ease,  most  of  his  friends,  his  reputation,  the  way 
of  life  of  all  others  most  agreeable  both  to  his  natural 
temper  and  education,  toil  day  and  night,  spend  all 
his  time  and  strength  —  to  gain  a  debt  of  six  or  seven 
hundred  pounds!"  In  the  "Further  Appeal"  he 
makes  a  most  searching  but  just  arraignment  of  morals 
and  religion  in  England  when  he  began  his  work, 
and  then  urges  that  the  Methodist  movement,  in  spite 
of  the  opposition  it  encounters,  is  temperate  and  ra- 
tional, and  can  be  productive  of  nothing  but  good 
to  individuals  or  to  society.  The  two  tracts,  taken 
together,  form  the  best  contemporary  vindication  of 
early  Methodism ;  they  should  be  read  by  all  who  would 
understand  Wesley's  motives  and  his  methods.  They 
are  also  perhaps  the  best  specimens  of  his  controversial 
writing ;  simple  in  style ;  vigorous  but  not  bitter ;  self- 
controlled  and  logical,  yet  aglow  with  earnest  feeling. 
Apart  from  mere  personalities  and  the  many  state- 
ments fabricated  in  the  heat  of  controversy,  the  charges 
urged  by  the  Church  against  the  early  Methodists  all 
reduce,  in  the  last  analysis,  to  these  two :  — 


iS8  JOHN  WESLEY 

First,  violations  of  ecclesiastical  discipline  or  usage, 
such  as  field  preaching,  lay  preaching,  the  organiza- 
tion within  the  Church  of  a  network  of  societies  not 
subject  to  its  control.  Second,  the  insistence  upon 
some  ''assurance,"  "inward  feeling,"  ''witness,"  or 
similar  experience  as  an  essential  evidence  of  faith, 
and  the  disposition  to  decry  the  religion  of  all  who 
could  not  profess  such  experience. 

To  the  first  charge  Wesley's  uniform  answer  was 
that  his  action,  for  the  most  part,  was  not  in  violation 
of  any  canon  of  the  Church;  but  that  if,  in  some 
matters,  he  had  disregarded  ecclesiastical  authority, 
it  was  only  because  he  had  been  forced  to  decide 
whether  he  would  obey  God  rather  than  man.  He 
had  consented  to  speak  in  the  fields,  though  with  a 
repugnance  that  he  could  never  quite  overcome;  but 
he  had  consented  only  because  driven  to  the  alterna- 
tive of  preaching  there  or  not  preaching  at  all.  He 
had  reluctantly  sanctioned  preaching  by  laymen;  but 
only  because  the  parish  clergy  were  indifferent  or 
hostile  and  refused  their  assistance.  His  societies 
were  only  such  groups  of  religious  persons  as  had  been 
formed  within  the  English  Communion  for  more 
than  half  a  century;  and  if  they  tended,  against  his 
wishes,  to  draw  away  in  many  cases  from  the  parish 
church  and  recognized  only  their  relation  to  Wesley, 
it  was  because  of  the  distrust  and  often  open  disavowal 
they  had  to  meet  from  the  clergy.  In  a  word,  all 
these  innovations  upon  established  discipline  and 
usage  were  the  results  of  the  opposition  of  the 
Church,  and  not  its  primary  cause.  Conclusive  proof 
of  this  is  to  be  found  in  the  fact  that  this  opposition 
had    taken    pronounced    form    before    Wesley   could 


THE  EXTENSION   OF   THE  WORK  159 

have  been  charged  with  any  irregularities  whatever. 
As  we  have  seen,  practically  all  the  pulpits  of  London 
were  shut  against  him  before  the  close  of  1738,  when 
as  yet  —  to  use  his  own  phrase  —  he  would  as  soon 
have  thought  of  cutting  a  throat  as  of  preaching  in 
the  fields,  and  had  never  dreamed  of  class-meetings 
or  lay  preaching. 

Clearly,  then,  we  must  find  the  original  ground  of 
the  hostility  to  Wesley  and  the  early  Methodists  in  the 
second  of  the  charges  mentioned.  The  fundamental 
objection  lay  against  his  teaching.  Yet  he  claimed, 
and  justly,  that  he  was  teaching  nothing  that  could 
not  be  found  in  the  articles  of  the  English  Church. 
The  burden  of  his  preaching  throughout  that  year 
1738  was  simply  the  old  Protestant  doctrine  of  jus- 
tification by  faith.  But  into  dead  formularies  he  put 
life.  The  statements  of  Scripture  and  creed,  to  which 
men  gave  a  drowsy  assent,  or  explained  away  as 
metaphorical,  he  accepted  as  literally,  vitally  true. 
He  spoke  of  religion  as  something  to  be  experienced; 
not  as  a  comely  profession,  but  as  a  life.  He  dis- 
claimed all  fanaticism,  all  special  personal  revela- 
tions; ''as  to  ecstasies,"  he  said  in  reply  to  one  of 
his  critics,  ''I  rest  not  on  them  at  all,  nor  did  I  ever 
experience  any;"  but  that  the  living  God  should  be 
able  and  willing  to  influence  directly  the  soul  of  the 
individual  man  He  had  created,  that  seemed  to  Wesley 
no  fanaticism,  but  an  entirely  natural  thing;  belief  of 
it,  experience  of  it,  the  essence  of  all  religion.  Per- 
haps in  his  early  preaching  he  may  occasionally  have 
urged  this  truth  in  too  narrow  and  mandatory  fash- 
ion; indeed  he  himself  in  later  years  admitted  that. 
But  it  is  difficult  to  see  why  his  preaching,  at  the  out- 


i6o  JOHN  WESLEY 

set,  should  have  aroused  such  opposition  from  pious 
Churchmen  who  reahzed  the  meaning  of  the  creed 
they  professed. 

After  all,  however,  it  was  not  so  much  the  doctrine 
as  the  temper  of  Wesley's  early  preaching  that  gave 
offence.  The  entry  in  his  Journal,  quoted  on  a  for- 
mer page,  is  suggestive.  "My  heart  was  so  enlarged 
to  declare  the  love  oj  God  to  all  that  were  oppressed  of 
the  devil  that  I  did  not  wonder  in  the  least  when  I  was 
afterward  told,  'Sir,  you  must  preach  here  no  more.'" 
The  sermons  that  caused  the  London  clergy  to  close 
their  pulpits  to  him  were  in  almost  every  instance 
strictly  evangelical.  How  strange  such  preaching 
sounded  in  the  pulpits  of  1738,  any  one  may  under- 
stand by  looking  over  some  of  the  popular  sermons 
of  that  time  that  have  not  fallen  quite  into  oblivion, 
say  by  Sherlock  or  Seeker.  Such  ardent  love  for 
sinful  and  wretched  men,  such  confidence  in  the 
power  of  the  Gospel  to  reform  and  uplift  them,  was 
an  implied  rebuke  to  the  cold,  decorous  inactivity  of 
the  Church.  And  perhaps  it  was  not  strange  that 
the  whole  body  of  the  English  clergy  from  the  bishops 
down,  should  decline  to  take  a  lesson  from  the  zeal 
of  an  itinerant  Fellow  of  Lincoln  College,  or  admit 
that  the  work  they  were  set  to  do  could  be  better  done 
by  a  group  of  plebeian  preachers,  most  of  them  un- 
learned and  ignorant  men.  Nor  need  we  deny  that 
the  preaching  of  the  early  Methodists  often  produced 
in  the  classes  most  affected  by  the  Methodist  move- 
ment exhibitions  of  crude,  extravagant,  and  some- 
times morbid  emotion,  distasteful  to  many  thought- 
ful, conservative  persons.  There  was  doubtless 
ignorance    and    extravagance    in    plenty   to  vex    and 


THE  EXTENSION   OF  THE  WORK  i6i 

alarm  those  cautious  Christians  who  insist  first  of  all 
that  everything  must  be  done  decently  and  in  order. 
But  it  was  the  misfortune  of  the  English  Church  to  see 
in  the  Methodist  movement  for  twenty  years  little  else 
than  this  ignorance  and  extravagance;  to  interpret 
the  intense  devotion  of  the  Methodists  as  heated 
fanaticism;  and  instead  of  welcoming  their  aid  in  the 
work  of  lifting  the  nation  out  of  religious  apathy  and 
unbelief,  to  disown  them  and  disavow  their  work. 
The  Rev.  Mr.  Church  did  not  much  overstate  the 
opinion  of  many  of  his  fellow-churchmen  when  he 
wrote  to  Wesley  of  the  Methodists,  "We  must  account 
you  our  most  dangerous  enemies." 


CHAPTER   VI 

Wesley's  private  life 

The  biographer  of  Wesley  must  needs  forgo  the 
interest  belonging  to  the  record  of  that  intimate  and 
domestic  life  in  which  a  man's  real  character  is  often 
most  clearly  shown.  For  it  is  hardly  too  much  to 
say  that  John  Wesley  had  no  private  life.  He  had  no 
home.  Travelling  from  one  end  of  England  to  the 
other,  directing  all  those  varied  activities  of  which 
he  was  the  centre,  looked  up  to  as  a  Father  and  Leader 
by  the  ever  increasing  host  of  Methodists,  he  never- 
theless always  impresses  us  as  a  lonely  man.  He 
had  no  close  family  ties.  After  the  death  of  his 
mother  in  1742,  there  was  no  one  of  his  own  family, 
save  his  brother  Charles,  with  whom  he  could  be  in 
entire  sympathy.  For  Charles,  indeed,  he  cherished 
an  affection  most  beautiful  to  the  end.  Differing, 
as  the  two  brothers  did,  strikingly  in  temperament 
and  often  in  opinion,  no  difference  ever  caused  an 
estrangement  or  hindered  their  cordial  cooperation 
in  the  great  work  to  which  they  had  given  their  lives. 
But  in  1749  Charles,  who  up  to  that  time  had  shared 
his  brother's  manner  of  life,  married  a  most  admirable 
Welsh  lady,  much  younger  than  himself,  whose  cul- 
ture and  accomplishments  were  to  make  his  house 
for  the  next  forty  years  an  ideal  Christian  home. 
After  about  1756  he  practically  closed  his  itinerant 
life,   and,  residing  for  some  twenty  years  in  Bristol 

162 


WESLEY'S   PRIVATE  LIFE  163 

and  thereafter  in  London,  gave  himself  to  the  care 
of  the  societies  in  those  cities.  This  change  in  his 
life,  of  course,  withdrew  him  somewhat  from  the 
companionship  of  his  brother,  and  left  John  more 
alone  than  before.  Of  Wesley's  seven  sisters,  Mary, 
the  sweet-tempered,  deformed  child  who  had  married 
her  father's  curate,  John  Whitelamb,  died  in  1734; 
Kezzy,  the  youngest,  died  unmarried  in  1741.  The 
other  five  had  all  made  such  wretchedly  unfortunate 
marriages  as  of  necessity  alienated  them  in  great 
measure  from  the  sympathy  and  companionship  of 
their  brothers.  The  sisters  all  showed,  each  in  her 
own  way,  something  of  the  unusual  gifts  of  intellect 
or  of  imagination  which  were  the  Wesley  birthright. 
Three  of  them  in  their  early  womanhood  had  formed 
attachments  which  their  parents  —  wisely  or  unwisely 
—  disapproved ;  but  it  might  be  difficult  to  get  together 
five  more  worthless  creatures  than  the  sisters  of  John 
Wesley  finally  accepted  as  husbands.  Emilia,  the 
eldest,  married  a  lazy  apothecary  of  Epworth,  whom 
she  was  obliged  to  support  by  teaching  until  he  for- 
tunately died,  about  1740,  and  left  her  to  the  care  of 
her  brothers.  She  occupied  for  many  years  a  room 
adjoining  the  Methodist  Chapel  in  West  Street,  Lon- 
don, a  saddened,  disappointed  woman.  Robert 
Ellison,  the  husband  of  the  second  sister,  Susanna, 
was  a  coarse,  loud-mouthed  scoundrel.  After  long 
years  of  abuse  and  neglect,  his  wife  left  him,  and 
came  up  to  London  where  her  children  were  living, 
and  refused  ever  to  see  him  again.  The  poor  dog 
himself  followed  his  wife  to  London  some  years  later, 
begged  for  help  from  his  brother-in-law  John,  got  it, 
reformed  —  so  far  as  such  a  paltry,  weak-willed  charac- 


i64  JOHN  WESLEY 

ter  could — and  finally  died  in  some  decency  about 
1760.  Two  other  sisters,  Anne  and  Hetty,  married 
incorrigible  drunkards.  Hetty,  the  most  sprightly 
and  imaginative  of  all  the  Wesleys,  after  endless  hard- 
ships and  humiliations  from  her  boorish  husband, 
which  broke  her  fine  spirit,  died  in  1750.  The  last 
twenty  years  of  her  life  were  spent  in  London,  where 
she  could  at  least  have  the  counsel  and  occasional 
visits  of  her  brothers.  Martha,  her  mother's  favorite 
and  John's  best-beloved  sister,  who  exemplified  the 
best  moral  and  intellectual  traits  of  the  Wesley  family, 
was  of  all  the  sisters  most  unfortunate  in  her  mar- 
riage. Her  husband,  Westley  Hall,  had  been  one  of 
John  Wesley's  pupils  in  Oxford,  and  had  taken  orders 
not  long  before  his  marriage.  But  he  was,  probably 
from  the  first,  an  utter  scoundrel  and  hypocrite.  Dur- 
ing his  long  residence  as  curate  of  a  parish  near  Salis- 
bury, he  fell  into  the  grossest  immorality,  which  he 
had  not  even  the  decency  to  disguise.  He  preached 
—  and  practised  —  polygamy,  and  had  the  effrontery 
to  bring  the  companions  and  children  of  his  shame 
into  his  own  house.  His  later  years  he  passed  in  a 
kind  of  licentious  vagabondage,  and  left  his  wife  to 
provide  for  herself  as  she  could.  Like  her  other 
sisters,  she  was  much  in  London,  and  won  the  high 
esteem  of  the  few  who  knew  her  well  —  among  them 
Samuel  Johnson  —  for  the  soundness  of  her  judg- 
ment and  the  brilliancy  of  her  conversation.  It  is 
evident  that  no  one  of  these  sisters,  with  such  connec- 
tions, had  a  home  where  John  Wesley  could  find 
welcome.  Their  presence  in  London  increased  his 
anxieties,  without  diminishing  the  loneliness  and 
isolation  of  his  life. 


WESLEY'S  PRIVATE  LIFE  165 

Nor  had  Wesley  many  intimate  friends  outside  the 
circle  of  his  own  family.  To  his  lay  preachers  he  was 
as  a  bishop  and  a  father;  but  these  humble  and 
devoted  men  could  hardly  share  his  tastes  and  his 
knowledge.  The  temporary  breach  with  Whitefield 
was  quickly  healed,  and  in  spite  of  their  pronounced 
differences  in  doctrine,  and  the  bitter  antagonism  of 
Whitefield's  Calvinistic  followers,  Wesley  always  ac- 
counted the  great  preacher  his  trusted  friend.  "You 
may  read,"  he  said,  "Whitefield  against  Wesley;  but 
you  will  never  read  Wesley  against  Whitefield."  In 
fact,  after  the  brief  alienation  in  1741,  Whitefield 
never  did  write  against  Wesley,  but  responded  with 
all  the  warmth  of  his  generous  and  impulsive  nature 
to  the  steadier  flame  of  Wesley's  friendship.  When 
he  died  in  America,  in  1770,  it  was  in  accord  with  his 
request  that  Wesley  preached  his  funeral  sermon 
in  Whitefield's  Tottenham  Court  Road  Tabernacle, 
and  paid  a  just  and  moving  tribute  to  his  old  friend. 
The  story  is  told  that,  some  days  later,  a  good  woman 
who  could  not  quite  forget  the  doctrinal  differences 
that  separated  Whitefield  from  the  Wesleyan  Method- 
ists, said  to  Wesley  timidly  and  with  great  hesitation : 
"Mr.  Wesley,  may  I  ask  you  a  question?  Do  you 
expect  to  see  dear  Mr.  Whitefield  in  heaven?"  After 
a  long  pause,  Wesley  answered  solemnly,  "No, 
Madam."  "Ah,"  exclaimed  his  questioner,  "I  was 
afraid  you  would  say  so."  "But,"  Wesley  added  with 
intense  earnestness,  "do  not  misunderstand  me, 
Madam;  George  Whitefield  will  stand  so  near  the 
throne  that  one  like  me  will  never  get  a  glimpse  of 
him!"  Yet,  though  they  were  genuine  friends,  the 
two  men  were  so  diametrically  opposed  in  tempera- 


1 66  JOHN  WESLEY 

ment  that  it  was  impossible  they  should  be  thoroughly 
congenial,  and  the  relations  between  them,  at  least 
after  1741,  seem  not  to  have  been  entirely  intimate 
or  confidential.  Besides,  the  sharp  division  of 
their  work  in  England  and  the  repeated  and  pro- 
tracted absences  of  Whitefield  in  America,  made  any 
close  companionship  between  them  impossible  during 
all  the  later  years  of  Whitefield 's  life. 

After  his  brother  Charles  and  Whitefield,  the  most 
congenial  friends  of  Wesley  were  two  or  three  of  his 
fellow-clergymen  of  the  Established  Church.  Of 
these  the  first  and  oldest  was  Vincent  Perronet,  Vicar 
of  Shoreham.  He  was  ten  years  older  than  Wesley, 
and  a  man  of  singularly  good  judgment  and  good 
temper  —  a  mellow,  wise,  kindly  man.  No  one  en- 
joyed Wesley's  confidence  so  fully  as  he.  Both  the 
Wesley  brothers  conferred  with  him  on  matters  per- 
taining either  to  their  public  work  or  their  private 
life.  When,  in  1751,  they  drew  up  a  mutual  agree- 
ment to  guide  them  in  their  relations  to  the  lay  preach- 
ers, they  first  consulted  Perronet  and  then  included  in 
the  paper  this  article:  "That  if  we  should  ever  dis- 
agree in  our  judgment,  we  will  refer  the  matter  to  Mr. 
Perronet."  Charles  called  him  ''the  Archbishop  of 
the  Methodists."  It  was  to  Perronet  that  Charles 
opened  his  heart  when  he  had  fallen  in  love  with  Miss 
Sarah  Gwynne,  and  yet  doubted  whether  he  ought  to 
marry ;  and  it  was  Perronet,  too,  —  making  for  once  a 
grievous  error  of  judgment,  —  who  advised  John 
Wesley  that  he  would  do  well  to  wed  Mrs.  Vazeille. 
For  almost  forty  years,  the  Shoreham  vicarage  was 
the  home  to  which  Wesley  liked  best  to  return  for  a 
day  or  so  of  rest  or  quiet  writing. 


WESLEY'S   PRIVATE  LIFE  167 

Another  and  very  different  clerical  friend  of  Wesley 
was  William  Grimshaw,  incumbent  of  Haworth  in 
Yorkshire,  a  burly,  impetuous,  soft-hearted  giant,  who 
feared  neither  mobs  nor  pamphlets,  resisted  all 
attempts  to  oust  him  from  his  parish,  and  stoutly 
declared  himself  to  be  a  Methodist  so  long  as  the 
Methodists  were  Churchmen.  "A  few  such  as  he," 
said  Wesley,  *' would  make  a  nation  tremble." 

But  the  nearest  of  all  Wesley's  friends,  for  some 
thirty  years,  was  a  man  of  quite  different  temper  from 
either  Perronet  or  Grimshaw.  Jean  Guillaume  de 
la  Flechere  —  or  John  Fletcher  as  he  was  known 
after  he  had  taken  up  permanent  residence  in  Eng- 
land —  was  born  in  Nyon,  Switzerland,  of  a  family 
descended  from  a  noble  house  of  Savoy.  His  parents 
intended  him  for  the  ministry,  and  he  was  educated 
in  Geneva;  but  he  conceived  an  aversion  for  the 
Church,  and,  like  many  of  his  countrymen,  determined 
upon  the  career  of  a  soldier  of  fortune.  But  his 
attempts  to  get  into  active  service  in  Portugal  and 
Flanders  were  unsuccessful,  and  he  gave  up  his  mili- 
tary plans,  and  came  to  England.  He  rapidly  per- 
fected his  knowledge  of  the  language,  and  soon 
obtained  a  position  as  tutor  to  the  sons  of  a  Mr.  Hill, 
whose  country-seat  was  in  Shropshire,  but  who  came 
up  to  London  every  year,  with  his  family,  to  attend 
the  session  of  Parliament.  It  was  while  in  the  family 
of  Mr.  Hill  that  he  became  converted  and  began  to 
lead  a  life  which  he  himself  afterwards  confessed  was 
wrongly  ascetic.  For  a  time  he  ate  nothing  but  bread 
and  milk,  and  practised  austerities  which  doubtless 
planted  the  seeds  of  lifelong  disease.  He  sought 
out  the  Methodists,  and  it  was  by  the  advice  of  Wesley 


i68  JOHN  WESLEY 

that,  in  1757,  he  decided  to  take  orders.  Two  years 
later  he  was  presented  to  the  living  of  Madeley,  in 
Yorkshire,  which  he  held  the  rest  of  his  life.  He 
cherished  the  warmest  affection  for  Wesley,  and 
brought  to  him,  at  a  time  when  he  was  much  in  need 
of  it,  such  aid  as  no  one  of  his  friends  could  afford. 
He  had  attained  an  excellent  mastery  of  English,  — 
though  he  always  spoke  it  with  a  slightly  foreign  ac- 
cent, —  and  Wesley  was  glad  to  leave  his  theological 
controversy  mostly  to  the  pen  of  an  assistant  so  able 
and  so  genial.  For  Fletcher  alone,  of  all  the  partici- 
pants in  the  bitter  Calvinist  controversy,  knew  how 
to  unite  force  of  argument  with  a  kindly  temper  and 
a  style  singularly  suave  and  finished.  The  purity 
and  simplicity  of  his  nature,  his  self-sacrificing  devo- 
tion, endeared  him  even  to  his  opponents;  while  his 
culture,  his  refined  taste,  and  gentle  manners,  added 
to  those  religious  graces,  won  from  Wesley  a  sympa- 
thy such  as  he  felt  for  no  other  friend.  Fletcher  of 
Madeley  was  the  saint  of  Methodism.  Always  of 
delicate  constitution,  his  intense  but  sensitive  spirit 
burned  out  rapidly,  and  he  died  at  the  age  of  fifty-six. 
Wesley  closed  an  account  of  his  life  with  the  words: 
"I  was  intimately  acquainted  with  him  for  thirty 
years.  I  conversed  with  him  morning,  noon,  and 
night,  without  the  least  reserve,  during  a  journey  of 
many  hundred  miles;  and  in  all  that  time  I  never 
heard  him  speak  an  improper  word,  or  saw  him  do 
an  improper  action.  To  conclude:  within  fourscore 
years,  I  have  known  many  excellent  men,  holy  in 
heart  and  life,  but  one  equal  to  him  I  have  not  known ; 
one  so  uniformly  and  deeply  devoted  to  God.  So 
unblamable  a  man,  in  every  respect,  I  have  not  found 


WESLEY'S  PRIVATE  LIFE  169 

either  in  Europe  or  America.  Nor  do  I  expect  to  find 
such  another  on  this  side  eternity." 

But  if  Wesley's  intimate  friends  were  few  and  his 
hfe  isolated,  that  was  not  because  he  was  by  nature 
ascetic  or  indifferent  to  the  charm  of  good  society. 
His  temperament  was  not,  as  it  has  been  sometimes 
represented,  cold  or  self-sufficient.  The  record  of 
his  early  university  days  shows  him  to  have  been  a 
genial  young  fellow,  of  pleasing  manners  and  brill- 
iant converse.  It  was  no  dull  recluse  whose  visits 
delighted  pretty  Betty  Kirkham  and  the  vivacious 
young  widow,  Mrs.  Pendarves.  Nor  was  there  any- 
thing morose  or  repellent  in  the  more  intense  religious 
life  of  his  mature  years.  "Sour  godliness  is  the  devil's 
own  religion,"  was  one  of  his  sayings.  It  is  true  that 
the  Journal  gives  frequent  proof  of  his  dislike  for  that 
frivolous  and  vapid  society  that  disported  itself  at 
the  masquerade  or  the  ridotto,  and  found  its  highest 
intellectual  pleasures  in  the  scandal  exchanged  over 

a  card-table.     "I  dined   at   Lady  's.     We  need 

great  grace  to  converse  with  great  people.  From 
which,  therefore  (unless  in  some  rare  instances),  I 
am  glad  to  be  excused.  Horae  fugiunt  et  imputantur. 
Of  these  two  hours,  I  can  give  no  good  account."^ 
Another  entry  is  more  explicit.  "How  unspeakable 
is  the  advantage  in  point  of  common  sense  which 
middling  people  have  over  the  rich !  There  is  so 
much  paint  and  affectation,  so  many  unnecessary 
words  and  senseless  customs  among  people  of  rank 
as  fully  justifies  the  remark  made  seventeen  hundred 
years  ago,  'Rarus  enim  firme  sensus  communis  in  ilia 
Fortuna. '  "^  This  is  the  criticism  of  the  scholar  rather 
than   of   the   religious  devotee;    yet  Wesley  did   not 

^  April  21,  1758.  2  jujjg  29,  1758. 


lyo  JOHN  WESLEY 

think  much  better  of  society  when  two  or  three  of  its 
great  ladies,  turning  devout,  adopted  Mr.  Whitefield 
and  made  Methodism  the  fad  of  the  hour.  It  is  easy 
to  see  that  he  sometimes  had  more  than  a  Httle  diffi- 
culty in  keeping  his  patience  with  Whitefield's  unctu- 
ous compliments  to  the  elect  ladies. 

But  if  Wesley  turned  his  back  upon  society,  it  was 
not  from  any  feeling  of  petulance  or  envy;  still  less 
from  any  indifference  to  the  charm  of  refinement  and 
intelligence.  He  had  the  tastes  and  culture  of  a  gentle- 
man. All  through  his  life,  thoughtful  people  who 
had  the  opportunity  of  knowing  him  well  found  him 
a  most  agreeable  companion.  Samuel  Johnson,  who 
knew  a  social  man  from  an  unsocial  one  as  well 
as  anybody  in  that  century,  once  said  to  Boswell, 
^'I  hate  to  meet  John  Wesley;  the  dog  enchants  me 
with  his  conversation,  and  then  breaks  away  to  go 
and  visit  some  old  woman."  Johnson's  other  re- 
mark of  similar  tenor  is  more  frequently  quoted : 
"Wesley's  conversation  is  good,  but  he  is  never  at 
leisure.  He  is  always  obliged  to  go  at  a  certain  hour. 
This  is  very  disagreeable  to  a  man  who  loves  to  fold 
his  legs  and  have  his  talk  out,  as  I  do."  Johnson's 
statements  give  the  cause  of  the  comparative  loneli- 
ness of  Wesley's  life.  It  was  not  from  natural  incli- 
nation that  he  declined  so  many  companionships  that 
he  might  have  enjoyed.  The  simple  fact  is  he  had  no 
time  for  society,  hardly  for  friendship.  His  whole 
life  was  a  noble  monotony  of  labor.  He  uniformly 
rose  at  four,  summer  and  winter,  and  usually  had  an 
appointment  to  preach  at  five.  Not  infrequently  he 
followed  this  morning  sermon  by  three  or  four  more 
in  the  same  day,  riding  ten  miles  or  more  between 


WESLEY'S  PRIVATE  LIFE  171 

each  one  and  the  next.  He  kept  a  voluminous  Jour- 
nal, and  was  always  writing  something  for  publica- 
tion. This  ceaseless,  methodical  activity  not  only 
obliged  him  to  forgo  those  attractions  of  society 
which  he  was  fitted  both  by  nature  and  education  to 
enjoy,  but  it  allowed  him  no  real  companionship. 
It  was  only  when  riding  on  his  journeys  from  place 
to  place  that  he  had  any  leisure,  and  then  he  was 
usually  alone  or  accompanied  only  by  a  valet,  and 
was  always  reading  a  book. 

Perhaps  we  should  not  quarrel  with  that  intense, 
unremitting  activity,  without  haste,  without  rest, 
which  enabled  him  to  accomplish  such  a  prodigious 
deal  of  work ;  but  it  may  fairly  be  questioned  whether 
it  did  not  narrow  his  habit  of  thought.  He  was  too 
much  afraid  of  leisure.  He  would  not  allow  himself 
any  of  those  hours  of  quiet  reflection,  it  may  be  merely 
of  revery,  when  the  mind  lies  open  to  the  play  of 
manifold  suggestion.  One  feels  that  he  might  have 
been  a  wiser  and  a  broader  man,  could  he  have 
learned  with  Wordsworth  that 

"  We  can  feed  these  minds  of  ours 
In  a  wise  passiveness." 

However  that  may  have  been,  certain  it  is  that  this 
temper  of  strenuous  preoccupation  left  him  little 
opportunity  to  extend  the  circle  of  his  acquaintance. 
Doubtless,  also,  it  made  him  sometimes  overimpa- 
tient  of  those  commonplace  secular  matters  in  which 
society  very  properly  takes  interest.  When  obliged 
one  afternoon  to  be  in  what  he  calls  genteel  company, 
he  exclaims:  ''Oh,  what  a  dull  thing  is  life  without 
religion !  I  do  not  wonder  that  time  hangs  heavy  on 
the  hands  of  those  who  know  not  God."     But  cer- 


172  JOHN  WESLEY 

tainly  a  healthy  religion  should  permit  a  man  of 
breeding  and  culture  to  stay  even  in  "genteel  com- 
pany "  for  two  hours  without  being  bored.  Nor  is 
it  quite  clear,  in  spite  of  the  testimony  of  Johnson, 
that,  with  this-  constant  feeling  of  urgency,  Wesley 
could  have  been  a  really  first-rate  talker.  Of  argument 
and  homily,  which  were  the  kinds  of  talk  Johnson 
himself  most  affected,  he  may  have  been  a  master; 
but  the  easy  give  and  take  of  real  conversation  presup- 
poses a  feeling  of  leisure,  of  time  to  spare,  which  Wes- 
ley never  had.  But  it  was  only  a  sense  of  duty,  though 
possibly  a  mistaken  one,  that  drove  Wesley  so  much 
away  from  associations  that  would  have  been  grateful 
to  his  taste  and  culture.  His  life  was  given  largely 
to  service  with  and  for  a  class  of  people  with  whom 
he  naturally  would  have  had  but  a  limited  sympathy. 
We  do  not  justly  estimate  the  nobility  of  his  work 
until  we  realize  how  much  sacrifice  of  all  that  was 
most  congenial  it  must  have  cost  him.  Some  of  the 
incidental  records  in  the  Journal  have  a  kind  of  half- 
pathetic  suggestiveness.  Thus  when  he  has  a  day 
of  quiet  after  a  fortnight  of  mobs  and  riot  in  Cornwall, 
he  writes:  *'Oh,  how  pleasant  a  thing  is  even  outward 
peace !  What  would  not  a  man  give  for  it,  but  a 
good  conscience!"  When,  in  his  eighty-first  year, 
he  made  a  brief  trip  to  Holland,  that  he  enjoyed  with 
all  the  eager  curiosity  of  a  boy,  he  notes  in  the  Jour- 
nal two  or  three  times  that  all  the  people  he  meets 
are  delightfully  refined  and  courteous;  that  one  of 
his  hosts  speaks  Latin  very  correctly,  and  "is  of  a 
most  easy  and  affable  bearing";  that  his  hostess 
another  day  received  him  "with  that  easy  openness 
and  affability"  which,  he  adds,  "is  almost  peculiar 
to  Christians  mid  persons  oj  quality.''^ 


WESLEY'S  PRIVATE  LIFE 


173 


For  one  reason  in  particular  it  might  have  been 
better  for  Wesley  if  he  had  cultivated  a  wider  acquaint- 
ance with  people  of  a  social  rank  the  same  as  his  own. 
One  of  his  early  critics,  Mr.  Knox,  speaking  of  Wes- 
ley's quick  sensitiveness  to  all  innocent  pleasures  and 
readiness  to  love  all  that  was  really  lovely,  adds 
quaintly,  ''To  interesting  females,  especially,  this 
affection  constantly  showed  itself."  Wesley  was 
certainly  very  sensitive  to  the  charm  of  woman's  so- 
ciety; but  the  "females"  upon  whom  he  bestowed  his 
highest  regard  would  not  generally  be  pronounced 
''interesting."  Everybody  knows  that  John  Wesley 
was  not  fortunate  in  what  the  older  moralists  used  to 
call  "the  conduct  of  the  affections. "  A  man  can  hardly 
make  a  worse  mistake  than  to  choose  as  a  wife  a 
woman  decidedly  below  himself  in  intelligence  and 
social  aptitudes.  Wesley  made  that  mistake  —  twice. 
Had  it  seemed  good  to  an  all-wise  Providence  that  he 
should  marry  Betty  Kirkham  when  he  was  about 
twenty-seven,  his  life  might  have  been  happier,  and 
the  great  Wesleyan  movement  might  perhaps  have  taken 
no  harm;  for  it  may  be  doubted  whether  the  woman 
ever  lived  whose  affection  could  have  turned  aside 
John  Wesley  either  from  his  inclination  or  his  duty. 
But  assuredly  all  his  subsequent  attachments  were 
ill  placed.  After  his  decision  to  give  up  Sophia  Hop- 
key  at  the  dictation  of  the  Moravian  elders  in  Savannah, 
he  seems  not  to  have  thought  of  marriage  for  some 
ten  years.  His  brother  Charles  and  himself  had 
made  a  mutual  agreement  that  neither  would  marry 
without  the  consent  of  the  other;  it  was  with  some 
natural  reluctance  that  John  gave  this  consent  when 
Charles,    in    1748,    wished    to    wed    Miss    Gwynne. 


174  JOHN  WESLEY 

Moved  possibly  by  unconscious  envy  of  the  happy 
lot  of  Charles,  and  doubtless  feeling  an  added  touch 
of  loneliness  at  the  loss  of  his  brother's  more  intimate 
companionship,  Wesley,  before  the  close  of  that  year, 
decided  that  he  had  found  the  heaven-sent  partner 
for  himself. 

During  the  summer  of  1748,  while  on  one  of  his 
visits  to  the  north  of  England,  he  was  overtaken  by 
temporary  illness,  which  obliged  him  to  stay  some 
days  in  the  orphanage  at  Newcastle,  where  Method- 
ist ministers  had  hospital  privileges.  During  this 
illness  he  was  cared  for  by  one  of  the  nurses  of  the 
orphanage,  Mrs.  Grace  Murray,  a  young  widow  of 
thirty-two,  whose  husband,  a  London  sailor,  had  been 
drowned  some  years  previously.  Before  her  mar- 
riage this  Grace  Murray  had  been  a  domestic  ser- 
vant in  London,  and  seems  to  have  enjoyed  few  oppor- 
tunities of  education  or  society.  She  was  attractive 
in  person  and  very  efficient  in  practical  affairs,  but 
without  much  self-possession,  and  of  a  fickle,  hysteri- 
cal temperament.  Wesley  had  met  her  often  in  Lon- 
don and  Newcastle,  and  within  the  last  two  years  had 
found  her  assistance  in  the  Newcastle  orphanage  and 
in  religious  work  in  the  vicinity  of  very  great  value. 
A  few  months  later,  he  declared,  with  something  of 
a  lover's  partiality,  that  no  other  w^oman  in  England 
had  done  so  much  good  as  Grace  Murray.  Now, 
after  six  days  of  her  care  in  the  orphanage,  he  was 
convinced  that  she  was  the  woman  divinely  intended 
for  his  wife  —  and  told  her  so.  She  responded,  ''This 
is  all  I  could  have  wished  for  under  heaven ! "  What 
followed,  however,  may  remind  one  of  Sir  Roger  de 
Coverley's   despairing    exclamation,  ''You    can't    im- 


WESLEY'S  PRIVATE  LIFE  175 

agine  what  it  is  to  have  to  do  with  a  widow!"  One 
of  Wesley's  biographers^  summarily  declares,  "Grace 
Murray  was  a  flirt."  Another^  asserts  that  she  recip- 
rocated Wesley's  affection,  but  "with  shrinking  diffi- 
dence." 

What  seems  certain  is  that  Mrs.  Murray  had 
another  suitor  she  was  unwilling  to  lose  altogether, 
and  was  very  much  at  a  loss  to  know  upon  which  of 
the  two  she  ought  finally  to  bestow  her  hand.  A 
year  before,  she  had  cared  for  one  of  Wesley's 
preachers,  John  Bennett,  through  a  long  illness,  and 
ever  since  had  been  in  correspondence  with  him. 
When  Wesley  now  left  Newcastle  she  accompanied 
him  through  the  northern  counties  till  they  reached 
Bolton,  where  Bennett  resided.  Here  she  stopped, 
while  Wesley  went  on,  hoping  that  they  might  meet 
again  soon,  "and  part  no  more."  Three  days  after 
they  parted,  she  promised  marriage  to  John  Bennett. 
"Here,"  says  Wesley,  in  his  curious  account  of  the 
affair,^  "was  her  first  false  step"  — which  is  certainly 
a  mild  judgment.  During  the  next  twelve  months, 
Mrs.  Murray,  who,  whatever  her  virtues,  cannot  have 
had  much  decision  of  character,  was  unable  to  be  sure 
for  more  than  six  weeks  together  what  were  the  dic- 
tates either  of  duty  or  of  affection.  Perhaps  one  of 
her  acquaintances  was  not  far  wrong  in  the  opinion 
that  if  she  consulted  her  ambition,  she  would  marry 
Wesley ;  if  she  followed  her  affections,  she  would  marry 
Bennett.     At  last,  in  the  autumn  of  1749,  after  having 

^  Tyerman.  ^  Stevens. 

^  "Narrative  of  a  Remarkable  Transaction  in  the  Early  Life  of  John 
Wesley.  From  an  original  manuscript."  (Second  Edition.  London, 
1862,  p.  62.)    The  Ms.  is  in  the  British  Museum. 


176  JOHN  WESLEY 

been  engaged  to,  and  disengaged  from,  each  of  her 
suitors  twice  over,  she  concluded  that  Wesley  had  the 
stronger  claim  upon  both  her  conscience  and  her 
heart.  Marriage  might  soon  have  followed,  had  not 
Charles  Wesley  now  appeared  upon  the  scene.  He 
had  himself  just  married  a  refined  and  accomplished 
young  woman  of  excellent  family;  he  heard  with 
dismay  that  his  brother  was  about  to  take  as  a  wife 
a  woman  without  education,  who  was  engaged  to 
another  man.  Such  a  step  he  feared  would  be  fatal 
not  only  to  his  brother's  happiness  but  to  his  influence, 
and  would  bring  disaster  upon  the  cause  in  which 
they  both  were  interested.  He  hurried  to  the  north 
of  England,  and  finding  reproach  and  dissuasion  alike 
vain  with  his  brother,  addressed  his  expostulations 
to  Grace  Murray  herself.  The  poor  woman,  dis- 
tracted by  his  persistent  assertion  that  marriage  with 
Wesley  would  be  a  violation  of  her  pre-contract  and 
a  grievous  wrong  to  both  her  suitors,  persuaded  also, 
it  now  seems,  by  some  means,  that  Wesley  was  will- 
ing to  give  her  up,  changed  her  mind  again,  and  con- 
sented to  accompany  Charles  Wesley  to  Newcastle 
where  Bennett  was  staying.  Here  Charles  made  her 
peace  with  Bennett  by  the  plea  that  the  blame  for 
her  vacillation  should  be  mostly  laid  not  upon  her, 
but  upon  Wesley  —  as  Charles  himself  then  thought. 
Five  days  later,  she  and  Bennett  were  married  in  St. 
Andrew's  Church.  Charles  Wesley  prudently  re- 
mained in  Newcastle  till  the  ceremony  was  safely  over, 
and  then  accompanied  the  newly  married  couple  to 
Leeds,  where  all  three  met  John.  At  the  meeting, 
Charles,  whose  naturally  hasty  temper  had  been  tried 
beyond  patience  by  what  he  considered  the  inexcus- 


WESLEY'S  PRIVATE  LIFE  177 

able  folly  of  his  brother,  at  first  declared  that  he  re- 
nounced all  intercourse  with  him  save  "What  I  would 
have  with  an  heathen  man  and  a  publican."  But 
after  hearing  the  whole  story  from  John,  he  pro- 
nounced himself  ''utterly  amazed,"  and  was  inclined 
to  shift  any  blame  upon  Grace  Murray.  John,  for 
his  part,  would  not  quarrel  with  his  brother  for  what 
he  must  have  deemed  a  most  unwarrantable  interfer- 
ence ;  and  he  would  not  blame  the  woman.  But  the 
week  after  her  marriage,  he  recorded  his  own  poig- 
nant grief  in  a  series  of  stanzas  that  have  at  least  the 
merit  of  utter  sincerity.  Forty  years  afterward,  when 
both  were  near  the  close  of  life,  they  met  again  for  a 
few  moments;  and  it  was  evident  to  the  friend  who 
accompanied  Wesley  that  the  wound,  though  it  had 
long  since  ceased  to  smart,  had  never  been  forgotten.^ 
The  affections  of  the  man  were  deep  and  tender;  but 
it  was  certainly  some  proof  of  ill-regulated  sentiment 
that  he  should  have  bestowed  them  upon  one  who, 
whatever  her  activity  and  success  in  religious  work,  ^ 
was  so  ill  fitted  in  other  respects  to  become  his  com-  ' 
panion. 

Yet  marriage  with  Grace  Murray,  unfortunate  as 
it  might  have  proved,  would  have  saved  Wesley  from 
a  worse  fate.  On  that  later  story  the  biographer 
does  not  care  to  linger.  Under  date  of  February  2, 
1751,  Wesley  writes  in  his  Journal,  "Having  received 
a  full  answer  from  Mr.  P.  [erronet],  I  was  clearly  con- 
vinced that  I  ought  to  marry."  This  time  he  evi- 
dently determined  to  be  beforehand  with  his  brother, 
for  on  the  same  day  he  announced  to  him  his  fixed 
resolution.     "I    was    thunderstruck,"    says    Charles, 

1  Moore's  "Life  of  Wesley,"  II,  171. 


178  JOHN  WESLEY 

"and  could  only  answer  he  had  given  me  the  first  blow, 
and  his  marriage  would  come  like  the  coup  de  grace. 
Trusty  Ned  Perronet  told  me  the  person  was  Mrs. 
Vazeille,  one  of  whom  I  never  had  the  least  suspi- 
cion. I  refused  his  company  to  chapel,  and  retired 
to  mourn  with  my  faithful  Sally."  Charles  Wesley 
knew  there  was  cause  for  mourning.  Mrs.  Vazeille 
was  the  widow  of  a  London  merchant,  an  essentially 
vulgar  woman  with  a  tendency  to  hysteria.  What 
attractions  of  person,  mind,  or  temper  she  can  have 
had  for  such  a  man  as  Wesley  must  always  remain 
a  mystery.  She  had  been  known  to  both  the  brothers 
for  about  two  years,  but  not  intimately,  and  John's 
decision  to  marry  seems  to  have  been  taken  suddenly. 
He  doubtless  intended  that  the  ceremony  should  not 
be  long  delayed ;  but  it  was  by  an  accident  precipitated 
more  speedily  than  he  had  purposed.  A  week  after 
the  entry  in  his  Journal  just  cited,  he  slipped  on  the 
ice  while  crossing  London  Bridge,  injuring  his  ankle 
so  that  he  could  not  walk  or  stand  upon  his  feet.  He 
was  immediately  taken  to  the  residence  of  Mrs.  Va- 
zeille on  Threadneedle  Street  and  occupied  the  re- 
mainder of  the  week  —  so  the  Journal  records  — 
"partly  in  prayer,  reading,  and  conversation,  partly 
in  writing  on  Hebrew  Grammar  and  '  Lessons  for 
Children.'"  As  one  of  his  biographers  remarks,  the 
"conversation"  was  probably  of  most  importance  — 
for  at  the  beginning  of  the  next  week  he  was  married 
to  Mrs.  Vazeille.  There  was  long  leisure  for  repentance. 
Within  a  fortnight  he  had  so  far  recovered  from  his 
lameness  as  to  resume  his  travels,  and  set  out  for 
Bristol,  leaving  his  wife  in  London,  and  after  a  short 
visit  there  went  north  again.     Mrs.  Wesley  naturally 


WESLEY'S  PRIVATE  LIFE 


179 


disliked  being  left  alone  either  in  London  or  Bristol, 
and  Wesley  for  some  four  years  took  her  with  him 
wherever  she  could  be  induced  to  go.  But  within  a 
year  after  the  marriage,  her  jealousy,  suspicion,  and 
constant  complaint  or  accusation  made  life  almost 
intolerable.  Probably  the  best  of  wives  might  have 
found  that  life  with  John  Wesley  laid  a  heavy  tribute 
upon  her  patience.  Not  that  he  lacked  affection. 
But  he  was  forty-eight  years  old;  he  was  confirmed 
in  all  his  habits  of  life ;  and  he  was  engaged  in  a  work 
that  left  him  little  time  or  thought  for  domestic  cares. 
He  would  never  have  consented,  as  Charles  Wesley 
did,  not  many  years  after  his  marriage,  to  give  up 
most  of  his  itinerant  work  and  fix  himself  in  a  home. 
In  fact,  he  agreed  with  Mrs.  Vazeille  that  he  should 
not  be  expected  to  travel  a  mile  the  less  after  his  mar- 
riage than  before;  in  the  event,  he  was  probably 
glad  to  travel  more.  Doubtless,  with  his  varied  and 
exacting  personal  responsibilities,  it  would  have  been 
better  had  he  not  married  at  all.  He  was  mistaken 
in  the  conviction  recorded  in  the  Journal  that  "in  my 
present  circumstances  I  might  be  more  useful  in  the 
married  state."  Moreover,  we  may  admit  that  his 
notions  as  to  the  headship  of  the  family  were  such  as 
any  high-spirited  woman  might  not  have  accepted 
without  some  protest.  In  a  tract  on  Marriage  he 
says  that  the  duties  of  a  wife  may  all  be  reduced  to 
two:  I.  She  must  recognize  herself  as  the  inferior 
of  her  husband.  2.  She  must  behave  as  such.  This 
paper,  to  be  sure,  was  written  later  in  Wesley's  life, 
and  its  rather  mediasval  theory  of  the  marriage  rela- 
tion may  have  been  largely  an  inference  from  his  own 
unfortunate  experience. 


i8o  JOHN  WESLEY 

Mrs.  Wesley,  at  all  events,  did  not  accept  any  such 
theory.  She  was  obstinate,  peevish,  and  subject  to  fits 
of  violent  passion.  Wesley  was  just,  and  —  in  the 
opinion  of  his  brother  at  least  —  marvellously  patient ; 
but  he  could  hardly  have  felt  much  affection  for  such  a 
wife,  and  some  of  his  letters  to  her  evince  a  certain  long- 
suffering  assertion  of  superiority  not  exactly  concilia- 
tory. One  of  them  closes  with  the  advice:  ''Be  content 
to  be  a  private,  insignificant  person,  known  and  loved 
by  God  and  me.  Leave  me  to  be  governed  by  God 
and  my  own  conscience.  Then  shall  I  govern  you  with 
gentle  sway,  and  show  that  I  do  indeed  love  you,  even 
as  Christ  the  Church."  One  minded  to  extenuate  the 
guilt  of  Mrs.  Wesley  might  not  unplausibly  urge  that, 
after  having  made  the  sad  mistake  of  marrying  such  a 
wife,  Wesley  might  have  conceded  somewhat  more  than 
there  is  proof  he  ever  did  to  the  irritating  weaknesses  of 
her  character.  Still  more  unfortunate  was  it  that,  in  his 
innocent  unwisdom,  he  allowed  himself  to  write  letters 
of  religious  advice  and  sympathy  to  other  women,  espe- 
cially to  a  Mrs.  Sarah  Ryan,  housekeeper  of  his  Kings- 
wood  School.  This  Sarah  Ryan  was  an  ignorant, 
rather  flippant,  domestic  servant,  who  had  —  before 
her  conversion,  of  course  —  married  three  husbands, 
one  after  the  other,  without  waiting  for  either  to  die; 
and  now  finding  herself  somewhat  puzzled  to  know 
whose  wife  of  the  three  she  should  be,  and  having  been 
treated  very  badly  by  all  three,  concluded,  as  they  all 
were  providentially  out  of  the  country,  she  would  keep 
the  name  of  the  second,  but  be  the  wife  of  neither.  I 
must  agree  with  Mr.  Tyerman  that  it  was  imprudent 
of  Wesley  to  make  this  woman,  however  blessed  her 
experiences  or  exemplary  her  present  life,  the  house- 


WESLEY'S  PRIVATE  LIFE  i8i 

keeper  of  his  Kingswood  School.  It  was  much  more  im- 
prudent in  him  to  write  her  letters  of  religious  confidence 
when  he  had  a  wife  insanely  irritable  and  suspicious, 
and  to  insert  in  these  letters  passages  referring  to  that 
wife.  The  knowledge  of  such  correspondence  threw 
Mrs.  Wesley  into  paroxysms  of  jealousy.  She  habitu- 
ally intercepted  and  opened  his  letters;  she  sometimes 
interpolated  compromising  passages  of  her  own  inven- 
tion in  them,  and  then  read  them  to  prejudiced  persons ; 
in  one  or  two  instances  she  gave  such  doctored  letters 
to  the  public  prints.  She  spread  the  most  calumnious 
reports  as  to  her  husband's  character.  Her  conduct, 
indeed,  was  so  scandalous  and  at  times  so  violent,  as  to 
prove  that  she  cannot  have  been  perfectly  sane.  She  left 
Wesley  repeatedly  for  long  periods,  and  finally,  in  1771, 
departed,  taking  with  her  a  bundle  of  Wesley's  letters 
and  papers,  vowing  never  to  return.  Wesley  simply 
noted  the  fact  in  his  Journal  and  added,  ^'Non  earn  reli- 
qui;  non  dimisi;  non  revocahoy  She  seems,  however, 
to  have  returned  of  her  own  accord,  but  only  for  a  short 
time.  When  she  died,  ten  years  later,  she  was  in  sepa- 
ration from  Wesley,  and  he  was  not  even  informed  of 
her  death  until  three  days  after  her  funeral. 

Perhaps  it  is  not  strange  that,  after  such  an  experi- 
ence, Wesley  should  have  repeatedly  given  to  his  young 
preachers  who  thought  to  marry  the  laconic  advice  of 
Punch,  "Don't."  Not  that  he  was  coldly  insensible  to 
the  power  and  charm  of  youthful  sentiment;  on  the 
contrary,  as  his  favorite  niece  prettily  said,  ''My  uncle 
John  always  showed  peculiar  sympathy  to  young  peo- 
ple in  love."  His  advice  was  prompted  not  by  a  dislike 
for  sentiment,  but  by  a  distrust  of  it.  Knowing  from 
his  own  case  how  fatally  easy  it  is  to  become  unequally 


i82  JOHN  WESLEY 

yoked  together  with  believers  as  well  as  with  unbe- 
lievers, he  feared  lest  his  preachers,  like  himself,  might 
have  their  judgment  blinded  by  an  excess  of  that  ami- 
able quality.  But  it  certainly  was  unfortunate  that  a 
great  religious  leader  should  have  found  no  happiness 
in  the  most  normal  of  human  relations,  and  should  have 
been  inclined  to  dissuade  other  religious  teachers  from 
entering  it. 

The  opening  year  of  the  second  half  of  the  century 
was  a  trying  period  for  Wesley  in  many  ways.  The 
more  violent  opposition  of  mobs  was  beginning  to  les- 
sen, but  his  preaching  was  regarded  with  no  less  hos- 
tility by  the  clergy  and  the  magistrates.  The  worst 
attack  of  Lavington  and  the  Bishop  of  London's  severe 
Pastoral  Letter  were  both  published  in  1757.  The 
mutual  attitude  of  the  Methodists  and  the  Church  was 
a  matter  of  constant  anxiety.  The  visitation  and  over- 
sight of  his  societies  was  an  increasing  burden,  more 
heavy  now  that  Charles,  since  his  marriage,  afforded 
him  less  assistance.  A  journey  through  Ireland  in  the 
spring  and  summer  of  1 750  was  especially  toilsome.  He 
wrote  one  evening  in  June,  after  preaching  to  a  little 
company  in  an  Irish  village :  "  Oh,  who  should  drag  me 
into  a  great  city  if  I  did  not  know  there  is  another  world. 
How  gladly  could  I  spend  the  remainder  of  my  busy 
life  in  solitude  and  retirement."  He  was  encouraged 
by  the  marvellous  spreading  of  genuine  religion  over 
the  island ;  but,  as  was  only  natural,  after  the  first  glow 
of  resolve,  many  members  of  his  societies  fell  back  into 
their  old  habits.  Nor  was  it  always  easy  to  enforce  the 
requirements  of  religion  upon  the  practice  of  his  con- 
verts.    Some  honest  members  of  the  societies  could  not 


WESLEY'S  PRIVATE  LIFE  183 

see  why  Methodists  might  not  cheat  the  customs  or 
sell  their  votes,  as  all  the  rest  of  the  world  did.  But 
Wesley's  discipline  was  strict,  and  offenders  who  would 
not  promptly  mend  their  ways  were  dropped.  Under 
this  winnowing  process  the  society  at  Bristol,  at  one 
time,  lost  half  its  members.  Doctrinal  disputes,  too, 
more  bitter  than  intelligent,  broke  out  in  many  of  the 
societies,  and  vexed  Wesley's  practical  and  tolerant 
temper.  The  Calvinist  controversy,  in  particular, 
which  later  was  to  prove  so  virulent,  as  early  as  1750 
began  to  provoke  a  good  deal  of  hard  feeling.  Then, 
too,  the  fringe  of  fanatics,  cranks,  and  hypocrites  that 
always  hangs  upon  the  skirts  of  any  aggressive  religious 
movement,  sometimes  sorely  tried  his  patience  and  his 
common  sense.  His  own  religious  teaching  was  emi- 
nently sane  and  practical;  but  it  was  to  be  expected 
that  ignorant  zeal  should  sometimes  drive  it  into  absurd- 
ities of  misinterpretation.  At  one  place  he  finds  a 
''half  dozen  poor  wretches"  who  assured  him  that  they 
''lived  in  the  Spirit,"  and  were  therefore  beyond  the 
need  of  the  sacraments  and  prayer,  and  beyond  the  pos- 
sibility of  sin.  Two  men  called  on  him  one  day  stating 
that  they  were  sent  from  God  with  a  message  to  him 
that  he  was  shortly  to  be  "borned  again,"  adding  that 
they  proposed  to  stay  in  the  house  till  that  was  done, 
unless  they  were  turned  out.  Wesley  assured  them  that 
they  could  remain,  and  courteously  showed  them  into 
another  room  while  he  kept  on  with  his  writing.  It  was 
tolerably  cold,  he  says,  and  they  had  neither  meat  nor 
drink;  but  they  sat  there  patiently  till  nightfall,  and 
then,  despairing  of  Wesley's  new  birth,  quietly  got  up 
and  went  away.  Occasional  instances  of  such  fanati- 
cism or  credulity  are  scattered  through  the  Journal. 


1 84  JOHN  WESLEY 

He  now  and  then  had  to  warn  some  of  his  own  preachers 
against  extravagances  or  crudities  of  utterance  that 
tended  to  discredit  their  teaching.  Besides  all  these 
anxieties,  we  may  be  certain  that  the  disappointment  of 
his  affection  for  Grace  Murray  and  the  growing  cer- 
tainty that  his  marriage  was  ill  judged  must  have 
weighed  upon  his  spirits.  Wesley  never  fretted  or  wor- 
ried ;  but  a  burden  is  no  less  sorely  heavy,  though  it 
is  borne  silently. 

As  a  result  of  these  labors  and  anxieties,  in  1753,  Wes- 
ley's health  broke  down.  Hitherto  his  constitution,  if 
not  exactly  robust,  had  been  elastic.  His  ceaseless  ac- 
tivity had  not  seemed  to  depress  either  his  health  or 
his  spirits.  But  in  the  summer  of  that  year,  we  find  in 
the  Journal  mention  of  fatigue,  headaches,  and  fever. 
In  October  his  illness  increased,  with  chills,  weakness, 
and  a  violent  cough.  By  the  end  of  November  he  sup- 
posed himself  in  the  grasp  of  fatal  pulmonary  disease. 
At  the  command  of  his  physician,  the  eminent  Dr. 
Fothergill,  he  stopped  preaching  and  retired  into  the 
country  at  Lewisham.  The  evening  of  his  arrival 
there,  thinking  his  life  near  its  close,  "to  prevent  vile 
panegyric,"  he  wrote  his  epitaph :  — 

Here  lieth  the  body 

of 

John  Wesley 

A  Brand  plucked  out  of  the  Burning  : 

Who  died  of  a  consumption  in  the  fifty-first  year  of  his  age, 

Nor  leaving,  after  his  debts  are  paid, 

Ten  Pounds  behind  Him  : 

Praying 

God  be  merciful  to  me,  an  unprofitable  servant  ! 

(He  ordered  that  this,  if  any,  inscription  be  placed  upon  his 
tombstone.) 


WESLEY'S  PRIVATE  LIFE  185 

The  mourning  all  over  England,  the  days  of  special 
prayer  for  him,  the  multitude  of  letters  of  sympathy, 
attested  the  place  he  had  won  in  the  hearts  of  a  host  of 
Methodists.  Whitefield,  just  then  in  England,  poured 
out  his  heart  in  a  farewell  letter  that  showed  how  deep 
and  tender,  in  spite  of  all  their  doctrinal  differences, 
was  his  love  for  his  old  friend. 

But  the  disease  proved  less  obstinate  than  had  been 
feared.  After  a  few  weeks  of  rest,  the  worst  symptoms 
began  to  abate,  and  at  the  beginning  of  the  next  year, 
1754,  he  was  able  to  remove  to  the  Hot  Wells,  near 
Bristol,  where  he  remained  some  three  months.  In 
the  spring,  though  feeble,  he  attended  his  Conference ; 
but  his  recovery  was  slow  and  it  was  nearly  a  year  be- 
fore he  regained  his  old  strength  and  vigor.  But  while 
unable  to  preach,  his  pen  was  kept  busy.  He  spent  the 
first  half  of  the  year  in  writing  his  "Notes  on  the  New 
Testament,"  a  work  which  he  says,  "I  should  not 
have  attempted  had  I  not  been  so  ill  as  not  to  be  able 
to  travel  or  to  preach,  and  yet  so  well  as  to  be  able  to 
write." 

Early  in  the  next  year,  1755,  his  strength  seemed 
fully  restored  and  he  was  riding  and  preaching  as  usual. 
Never  again,  with  the  exception  of  a  short  but  sharp 
illness  in  1775,  caused  by  sleeping  on  the  ground,  did 
Wesley  suffer  from  serious  illness.  On  his  eighty-fifth 
birthday,  remembering  thankfully  his  uniform  good 
health  throughout  a  long  and  busy  life,  he  imputes  it: 
"i.  To  my  constant  exercise  and  change  of  air. 
2.  To  my  never  having  lost  a  night's  sleep,  sick  or 
well,  at  land  or  at  sea,  since  I  was  born.^  3.  To  my 
having  sleep  at  command,  so  that,  whenever  I  feel  my- 

*  In  this  his  memory  was  sUghtly  at  feult.  See  supra,  p.  120. 


1 86  JOHN  WESLEY 

self  almost  worn  out,  I  call  it  and  it  comes,  day  or  night. 
4.  To  my  having  constantly,  for  over  sixty  years,  risen 
at  four  in  the  morning.  5.  To  my  constant  preaching 
at  five  in  the  morning  for  above  fifty  years.  6.  To 
my  having  had  so  little  pain  in  my  life,  and  so  little  sor- 
row or  anxious  care."  No  doubt  his  life  in  the  open  air, 
especially  his  habit  of  preaching  out  of  doors,  checked 
a  native  tendency  to  pulmonary  disease.  He  always 
believed  that  his  friend  Fletcher,  if  he  had  consented  to 
travel  a  few  months  on  horseback,  would  have  thrown 
off  the  disease  to  which  he  finally  succumbed.  But 
the  last  of  the  six  causes  in  Wesley's  list  is  the  one  to 
which  we  are  inclined  to  give  most  credit.  It  is  not 
work  that  kills,  but  worry;  and  John  Wesley  never 
worried.  Like  most  people  of  superior  efficiency,  he 
had  an  equable  temperament  and  great  power  of  self- 
command.  The  slight  little  man  who  for  fifty  years 
had  carried  such  a  tremendous  load  of  responsibility 
could  afiirm  that  he  had  known  little  "anxious  care." 
Taking  good  care  of  his  own  health,  he  always  in- 
sisted that  other  people  should  do  the  same.  He  had 
no  patience  with  interesting  valetudinarianism.  He 
was  always  concerned  for  the  health  of  the  people  in 
his  societies,  and  sometimes  spoke  almost  with  envy  of 
the  service  rendered  to  humanity  by  a  good  physician. 
Of  his  own  books,  the  one  he  himself  was  inclined  to 
value  most  was  his  "Primitive  Physic,"  a  collection  of 
simple  prescriptions  for  the  treatment  of  almost  all  dis- 
eases and  accidents,  with  suggestions  as  to  care  and 
hygiene.  Published  first  in  1748,  it  ran  through 
twenty-three  editions  during  Wesley's  lifetime.  Some 
of  the  remedies  prescribed  are  very  odd,  and  a  few  of 
■  them  purely  superstitious;   yet  the  book  has  been  pro- 


WESLEY'S   PRIVATE   LIFE  187 

nounced  by  good  medical  authority  the  most  useful 
manual  of  the  kind  then  to  be  found  in  the  language. 
As  early  as  1746,  Wesley  began  the  custom,  in  Bristol, 
of  distributing  medicines  gratuitously  to  the  poorer 
members  of  his  societies,  with  the  advice  of  an  apothe- 
cary and  a  surgeon.  In  six  months,  six  hundred  cases 
had  been  treated  and  fifty-one  thoroughly  cured.  The 
success  of  the  experiment  induced  him,  next  year,  to 
set  up  a  dispensary  which  rendered  great  service  to  the 
poor  of  Bristol  for  half  a  century.  Similar  dispensaries 
were  set  up  in  London  and  in  Newcastle ;  and  in  some 
cases  arrangements  were  made  to  secure  free  treatment 
for  the  poor  in  their  homes.  Wesley  himself  was  much 
interested  in  anything  new  in  medical  theory  or  prac- 
tice ;  in  especial,  he  was  assured  of  the  great  therapeu- 
tic value  of  electricity,  when,  about  1780,  that  began 
to  excite  attention.  He  purchased  an  electrical  appa- 
ratus himself,  and  specified  certain  hours  when  any 
persons  might  come  to  ''try  the  virtue  of  this  surprising 
medicine."  Hundreds,  perhaps  thousands,  he  thinks 
were  greatly  benefited  by  this  treatment. 

The  record  of  Wesley's  private  life  after  his  recovery 
from  the  illness  of  1754,  to  the  end,  presents  no  striking 
deviations  from  the  daily  routine  of  labor.  As  the  roads 
throughout  England  improved,  he  journeyed  more  fre- 
quently by  coach  or  post-chaise  rather  than  on  horse- 
back, though  he  always  preferred  the  simpler  mode  of 
travel.  Rising  early  and  sleeping  early;  moving  over 
England  constantly  in  his  never  ending  round  of  visita- 
tions to  the  societies ;  preaching  now  in  chapels,  oftener 
in  a  market-place,  on  a  hillside,  or  in  some  vast  natural 
amphitheatre  like  that  at  Gwennap,  in  Cornwall;  not 
only  meeting  his  societies  but  giving  exhortation  and 


1 88  JOHN  WESLEY 

instruction  to  thousands  of  individual  seekers  after  a 
better  life;  reading,  writing,  compiling,  publishing  book 
after  book ;  his  life  ran  on  without  interruption  or  any 
change  in  the  method  of  his  ceaseless  activity.  With 
the  exception  of  the  hour  at  morning  and  at  evening 
which  he  always  gave  to  prayer  and  reflection,  there 
was  hardly  a  waking  moment  in  his  day  in  which  he 
was  not  engaged  in  some  labor  for  the  good  of  others. 
When,  in  1778,  the  new  City  Road  Chapel  was  built, 
rooms  were  provided  for  his  use  in  the  house  adjoining, 
and  that  was  nominally  his  home  for  the  rest  of  his  life ; 
but  he  stayed  there  no  more  than  he  had  been  used  to 
stay  in  the  Foundery. 

In  1772  his  brother  Charles  fixed  his  residence  in 
the  parish  of  Marylebone,  London,  three  miles  from 
the  Foundery,  occupying  a  large  house  which  had  been 
put  at  his  disposal  by  a  wealthy  friend.  Mrs.  Wesley 
was  an  accomplished  musician,  and  her  children  in- 
herited from  her  —  as,  indeed,  from  their  father  also  — 
special  musical  aptitude.  Her  two  sons,  Charles  and 
Samuel,  became  eminent  organists  and  composers,  and 
the  Wesley  house  was  for  years  a  centre  of  musical 
society.  John  Wesley  was  always  welcome  there,  of 
course,  and  occasionally  allowed  himself  a  brief  rest  in 
these  congenial  surroundings.  He  was  especially  fond 
of  the  daughter  of  Charles,  "Little  Sally,"  —  as  she 
was  called  to  distinguish  her  from  her  mother,  —  and  she 
returned  his  love  with  a  most  enthusiastic  devotion. 
One  day  in  1775  he  had  promised  to  take  her  with  him 
on  a  trip  to  Canterbury ;  but  just  at  that  time  Wesley's 
wife,  then  at  her  worst,  had  obtained  some  private  letters 
of  his,  and  after  mutilating  them  to  suit  her  purpose, 
threatened  to  publish  them  next  day  in  the  Morning 


WESLEY'S  PRIVATE   LIFE  189 

Post.  Charles  Wesley,  learning  her  intention,  hurried 
over  to  the  Foundery  to  warn  his  brother  and  advise 
him  to  postpone  his  journey.  "No,"  said  John, 
"when  I  devoted  to  God  my  ease,  my  time,  my  life,  did 
I  except  my  reputation  ?  Tell  Sally  we  will  go  to  Can- 
terbury to-morrow."  They  went,  the  old  man  of  seventy- 
two  pointing  out  to  the  girl  of  eighteen  every  noteworthy 
object  on  the  road  he  knew  so  well,  and  beguiling  the 
long  miles  by  having  her  read  to  him  from  Beattie's 
new  poem,  "The  Minstrel." 

It  was  seldom,  however,  that  Wesley  found  time  for 
any  period,  however  short,  of  rest  or  recreation.  Still 
less  would  he  allow  himself  any  of  the  luxuries  of  life, 
hardly  even  its  comforts.  Never  was  a  man  with  tastes 
more  simple.  He  made  no  virtue  of  his  austerities,  at 
least  not  after  his  early  High  Church  days;  but  in  a 
world  full  of  want  he  could  not  permit  himself  wealth. 
The  sale  of  his  books  during  the  later  years  of  his  life 
brought  him  annually  an  income  of  about  a  thousand 
pounds ;  but  he  gave  it  all  away.  When  the  officers  of 
the  excise  once  sent  him  the  formal  notice  to  "make  due 
entry"  of  his  plate,  he  replied:  "Sirs,  I  have  two  silver 
spoons  here  in  London,  and  two  in  Bristol.  This  is  all  I 
have  at  present,  and  I  shall  not  buy  any  more  while  so 
many  around  me  want  bread."  His  personal  gifts  to 
charity  amounted  to  over  thirty  thousand  pounds ;  but 
it  is  doubtful  whether  there  was  ever  a  time  when  he 
had  on  hand  more  than  twenty  pounds  not  needed  for 
immediate  use. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  YEARS   OF   SUCCESS 

The  last  thirty  years  of  Wesley's  life  were  years  of 
recognition  and  success.  After  about  1760  active  oppo- 
sition to  his  work  mostly  ceased.  It  was  only  seldom, 
and  in  the  most  remote  quarters,  that  his  preachers 
encountered  any  violence  from  mobs.  The  Eng- 
lish clergy,  though  not  generally  cordial,  were  at  least 
no  longer  actively  hostile.  A  strong  evangelical  senti- 
ment had  grown  up  within  the  Church  Establishment, 
which  recognized  the  beneficent  character  of  Wesley's 
work,  and  sympathized  heartily  with  his  motives, 
though  not  approving  all  his  methods.  No  one,  in- 
deed, not  wilfully  blind,  could  fail  to  see  the  good 
that  had  been  wrought.  Hardly  a  large  town  in  Eng- 
land but  had  its  Wesleyan  Society,  and  often  among 
the  members  of  these  societies  could  be  found  the  men 
who  before  their  conversion  belonged  to  the  most  dan- 
gerous, and  it  might  have  seemed,  the  most  irreclaima- 
ble classes  of  society.  Whole  communities,  before  shift- 
less and  impoverished,  under  the  influence  of  the  new 
enthusiasm,  had  become  temperate,  law-abiding,  and 
thrifty.  Wesley  used  to  say  that  he  now  feared  for  his 
people  the  temptations  of  wealth,  since  there  was  noth- 
ing to  hinder  Methodists  from  growing  rich;  and  he 
would  urge  upon  them  his  own  maxim,  "Earn  all  you 
can,  save  all  you  can,  give  all  you  can."     And,  best  of 

190 


THE  YEARS   OF  SUCCESS  191 

all,  to  Wesley's  thought,  a  more  vital  religion  was  spread- 
ing steadily  among  the  English  people,  a  religion  that 
could  be  experienced  as  well  as  believed,  that  trans- 
formed the  outer  life  by  renewing  the  inner  life,  that 
gave  strength  for  all  duty  or  hardship,  hope  in  all  trial 
or  sorrow.  In  the  Established  Church  and  in  the 
dissenting  bodies  there  was  a  deeper,  more  intimate 
sense  of  the  meaning  of  Christianity  to  the  individual. 
The  phrases  of  the  New  Testament  which  had  been 
taken  as  the  figurative  expression  of  an  unattainable 
ideal  became  realized  in  the  daily  life  of  thousands  of 
devout  people  all  over  the  island. 

Some  of  the  sorest  trials  of  Wesley's  during  this  period 
of  his  life  came  from  Methodists  themselves.  He  him- 
self never  countenanced  extravagance  or  fanaticism. 
But  it  is  not  strange  that  some  few  of  his  preachers, 
without  the  habit  or  even  the  power  of  clear  mental 
analysis,  should  interpret  the  statements  of  Scripture  by 
their  own  narrow  and  sometimes  morbid  experiences, 
and  so  announce  very  extravagant  notions  of  the  Chris- 
tian life.  This  tendency  was  seen  especially  in  connec- 
tion with  the  doctrine  of  sanctification  or  Christian  per- 
fection. As  enjoined  by  Wesley,  this  doctrine  meant 
little  more  than  that  complete  and  loving  devotion  of 
the  will  to  the  service  of  God  which  issues  in  habitual 
righteousness  of  life.  There  would  seem  to  be  no  ex- 
travagance in  asserting  this  to  be  the  ideal  condition  of 
religious  living,  after  which  every  Christian  should 
strive;  it  certainly  cannot  be  our  duty  to  give  an  in- 
complete or  divided  allegiance  to  the  Master.  Wesley 
was  careful  to  avoid  the  term  ''sinless  perfection"  as 
liable  to  misapprehension  and  likely  to  sanction  anti- 
nomian  and  fanatical  claims.     Moreover,  although  he 


192  JOHN  WESLEY 

urged  this  high  state  of  religious  attainment  upon  all 
Christians  as  an  ideal  to  be  striven  for,  and  certainly 
believed  that  it  had  been  reached  by  many  members  of 
his  societies,  it  seems  clear  that  he  never  explicitly 
claimed  it  for  himself.  He  deemed  there  was  no  in- 
consistency in  urging  all  Christians  to  seek  a  spiritual 
state  which  he  himself  desired,  but  which  his  clear  and 
scrupulously  honest  self-insight  would  not  allow  him 
confidently  to  profess.  He  found  difficulty  in  bring- 
ing his  teaching  on  this  matter  into  agreement  w^ith 
that  of  his  brother  Charles.  To  Charles  it  seemed 
clear  that  anything  to  be  justly  called  Christian  perfec- 
tion could  only  be  attained  gradually,  as  the  result  of 
the  long  discipline  of  faithful  living.  He  was  inclined 
to  distrust  either  the  intelligence  or  the  sincerity  of 
those  who  thought  themselves  to  have  gained  in  a  day 
or  an  hour  that  sainthood  which  crowns  the  education 
of  a  righteous  life.  John  Wesley,  on  the  other  hand, 
insisted  that  many  whose  sincerity  he  could  not  doubt 
professed  to  have  been  brought  to  this  state  of  entire 
devotion,  with  its  consequent  righteousness  and  peace, 
by  a  sudden,  supernatural  blessing.  It  is  not  neces- 
sary to  think  there  was  any  essential  contradiction  in 
the  views  of  the  two  brothers.  It  is  possible  to  hold 
that  the  most  normal  way  of  reaching  any  high  moral 
or  spiritual  condition  is  by  the  gradual  education  of 
effort  and  obedience,  while  at  the  same  time  we  may 
admit  that,  in  many  instances,  some  sudden  access  of 
truth  or  feeling  may  lift  a  man  from  a  lower  to  a  higher 
plane  of  spiritual  life,  which  he  maintains  thereafter. 
Yet  it  must  be  admitted  that  such  a  doctrine  is  pecul- 
iarly open  to  misinterpretation  by  a  hasty  enthusiasm. 
It  is  probably  wiser  to  insist  only  on  the  duty  of  a  healthy 


THE  YEARS   OF  SUCCESS  193 

Christian  life  to  strive  constantly  after  higher  attain- 
ments, rather  than  to  encourage  efforts,  that  are  likely 
to  be  spasmodic,  after  some  special  and  sudden  perfec- 
tion. 

It  was  not  until  after  1760  that  any  serious  trouble 
arose  from  the  teaching  of  Wesley  and  his  preachers  on 
this  matter,  or  from  ill-considered  professions  by  mem- 
bers of  his  societies.  But  in  the  winter  of  1 760-1761 
there  was  a  deepening  of  religious  interest  among  all 
denominations  of  Christians  throughout  the  island.  In 
Wesley's  London  societies  this  intensification  of  reli- 
gious feeling  and  desire  was  especially  marked.  In 
most  cases  productive  of  nothing  but  good,  it  occasion- 
ally ran  into  most  unfortunate  extravagance  and  fanati- 
cism. Pious  and  thoughtful  John  Fletcher,  hearing  of 
the  agitation  in  London,  wrote  in  alarm  from  his 
Madeley  vicarage  to  Charles  Wesley:  "Many  of  our 
brethren  are  overshooting  sober  Christianity  in  London. 
Oh,  that  I  could  stand  in  the  gap  !  Oh,  that  I 
could,  by  sacrificing  myself,  shut  this  immense  abysm 
of  enthusiasm  which  opens  its  mouth  among  us  ! 
The  corruption  of  the  best  things  is  always  the  worst 
corruption." 

One  George  Bell,  who  had  been  a  corporal  in  the 
Life  Guards,  professed  entire  sanctification  sometime 
in  1762,  and  was  allowed  by  Wesley  to  hold  a  few 
meetings  for  prayer,  with  a  number  of  his  friends,  in 
the  society  room  at  the  Foundery.  But  the  man  soon 
developed  symptoms  of  the  wildest  fanaticism.  In  the 
early  weeks  of  1763,  he  began  preaching  publicly  in 
Hanover  Square,  declaring  that  the  ordinary  forms  of 
worship  and  the  Sacraments  of  the  Church  were  need- 
less for  those  who,  like  himself,  had  been  freed  from 


194  JOHN  WESLEY 

sin,  and  announcing  that  the  coming  of  Christ  and  the 
end  of  earthly  things  was  at  hand.  He  even  went  so  far 
as  to  name  as  the  date  of  this  consummation,  the  28th 
of  February.  Wesley  hastened  to  issue  a  card  stating 
that  Bell  was  not  a  member  of  any  one  of  his  societies, 
and  denouncing  in  the  name  of  all  Methodists  his  con- 
duct and  his  teaching.  But  crowds  of  foolish  people 
still  flocked  to  hear  him,  partly  from  curiosity,  partly 
from  fear,  until  the  city  authorities  felt  it  necessary  to 
interfere.  On  the  day  before  the  expected  end.  Bell 
with  some  of  his  followers  ascended  a  little  eminence  in 
the  outskirts  of  London  to  take  their  last  look  at  the 
doomed  city ;  but  two  constables,  learning  of  their  pur- 
pose, were  there  before  them,  and  quietly  put  Bell  under 
arrest.  He  was  taken  before  a  Southwark  magistrate, 
and  on  the  day  he  had  fixed  for  his  translation,  was 
safely  lodged  in  jail.  After  his  release  he  gave  up  all 
religion,  and  ended  his  career  in  some  sort  of  half-crazy 
radicalism. 

This  ignorant  and  loud-mouthed  fanatic  might  have 
done  little  harm  to  Methodism,  had  he  not  received  the 
support  of  one  of  Wesley's  earliest  and  hitherto  most 
trusted  preachers,  Thomas  Maxfield.  Maxfield,  it  will 
be  remembered,  was  the  Bristol  convert  who  had  first 
alarmed  Wesley  by  venturing  to  preach  in  London,  and 
then  had  received  his  approval  as  his  first  formally 
recognized  lay  preacher.  Later  he  had  received  ordi- 
nation at  the  hands  of  the  bishop  of  Londonderry,  and 
for  twenty  years  had  been  one  of  Wesley's  most  effi- 
cient helpers.  Of  humble  birth,  and  without  educa- 
tion, he  had  married  a  woman  of  considerable  wealth, 
and  by  his  energy  and  ability  had  come  to  be  perhaps 
the  most  prominent  of  the  London  preachers.     Natu- 


THE  YEARS   OF  SUCCESS  195 

rally  somewhat  domineering  in  temper,  and  perhaps  a 
little  vain,  he  had  been  flattered  by  his  influence  and 
the  confidence  reposed  in  him,  till  he  had  come  to  re- 
gard himself  as  the  coadjutor  and  almost  the  equal  of 
Wesley. 

Maxfield  professed  a  high  form  of  religious  experi- 
ence; but  Wesley,  having  confidence  in  his  sincerity 
and  his  good  sense,  assigned  to  his  charge,  in  1760,  the 
direction  of  a  little  group  of  London  Methodists  who 
seemed  in  danger  of  running  into  very  wild  notions  on 
the  matter  of  sanctification.  Maxfield,  however,  instead 
of  tempering  the  extravagance  of  these  enthusiasts,  en- 
couraged it,  and  in  the  course  of  the  next  two  years  — 
perhaps  without  altogether  intending  to  do  so  —  made 
himself  the  centre  of  all  the  fanaticism  in  the  London 
societies.  His  followers,  with  his  approval,  declared 
themselves  to  have  reached  a  religious  condition  in 
which  they  were  without  sin  or  the  danger  of  it,  to  be 
above  the  need  of  the  ordinary  ministrations  of  the 
Church,  and  quite  beyond  the  possibility  of  profitable 
instruction  by  any  who  had  not  reached  the  same  ex- 
alted experience  with  themselves.  Maxfield  himself 
later  denied  that  he  had  ever  openly  sanctioned  the 
vagaries  of  Bell;  but  he  certainly  did  not  openly  dis- 
courage them,  and  the  two  men  were  considered  leaders 
of  all  the  more  erratic  members  of  the  society  in  Lon- 
don. Wesley  repeatedly  expostulated  with  Maxfield; 
he  published,  in  1762,  a  sober  tract  of  "Cautions  and 
Directions  to  the  Greatest  Professors  in  the  Methodist 
Societies" ;  but  his  efforts  to  check  the  tide  of  extrava- 
gance were  only  partially  successful.  Maxfield  grew 
more  jealous  and  bitter,  and  in  April  of  1763,  he  with- 
drew from  Wesley  altogether,  taking  with  him  over  two 


196  JOHN   WESLEY 

hundred  of  the  Foundery  society,  and  formed  a  con- 
gregation of  his  own  in  Moorfields.  In  later  years  his 
temper  grew  less  acrid,  but  he  was  never  again  one  of 
Wesley's  preachers. 

These  dissensions  and  extravagances  were  the  source 
of  deep  regret  to  Wesley,  and  they  doubtless  did  some- 
thing to  discredit  Methodism  in  the  eyes  of  a  hostile  or 
indifferent  public.  Yet  their  final  result  was,  perhaps, 
not  altogether  injurious.  The  schism  in  the  London 
society  purged  it  of  ignorance  and  delusion,  and  made 
its  members,  for  the  future,  more  thoughtful  and  pru- 
dent. Wesley,  for  his  part,  found  it  necessary  to  define 
more  carefully  his  views  on  the  vexed  subject  that  had 
caused  so  much  trouble;  while  his  attitude  during  the 
whole  period  of  excitement  was  an  assurance  that 
Methodism  had  no  place  for  credulity  or  fanaticism. 

More  bitter  and  more  discreditable  to  religion  was 
the  Calvinistic  controversy  which  reached  its  climax 
about  ten  years  later.  Between  Whitefield  and  Wesley, 
after  the  reconciliation  which  followed  their  brief  alien- 
ation in  1 741,  there  was  always  a  cordial  sympathy. 
Neither  would  modify  or  conceal  his  opinions  upon 
the  points  of  difference  between  them ;  yet  both  agreed 
not  to  make  these  matters  of  controversy  needlessly 
prominent  in  their  preaching.  Whitefield,  when  in 
England,  occasionally  spoke  in  the  Foundery  and  in 
other  preaching  places  of  Wesley's  societies  throughout 
the  island ;  but,  for  the  most  part,  their  work  was  done 
in  separation.  And  after  about  1 750  a  change  in  White- 
field's  methods  and  associations,  while  it  had  little 
effect  on  their  friendship,  tended  to  dissociate  them  yet 
further  in  their  labors  and  their  companionships. 

As  early  as   1739,   Whitefield's  preaching  had   at- 


THE  YEARS   OF  SUCCESS  197 

tracted  the  attention  of  that  great  lady,  Selina,  Countess 
of  Huntingdon,  and  during  the  winter  of  1 741-1742, 
when  Whitefield  was  in  London,  many  titled  ladies 
flocked  in  her  train  to  hear  him.  Lady  Townshend, 
Lady  Frankland,  Lady  Hinchinbrooke,  the  Duchess  of 
Ancaster,  the  Duchess  of  Queensberry,  —  "Kitty,  ever 
fair  and  ever  young,"  —  all  were  found  in  Whitefield's 
audiences.  The  proud  old  Duchess  of  Buckingham, 
though  she  declared  it  "highly  offensive  and  insulting" 
to  be  told  that  her  heart  was  "as  sinful  as  that  of  the 
commonest  wretches,"  nevertheless  consented  to  hear 
the  favorite  preacher  of  the  Countess;  and  the  great 
Sarah,  Duchess  of  Marlborough,  professed  herself  eager 
to  hear  any  one  who  could  do  her  good.  When,  seven 
years  later,  in  1748,  Whitefield  came  back  to  London 
after  a  long  absence  in  America,  his  reception  was  still 
more  flattering.  The  Countess  had  now  taken  him 
definitely  under  her  patronage,  made  him  her  domestic 
Chaplain,  and  opened  her  salon  to  his  sermons.  Meth- 
odism became  for  a  little  time  the  fad  of  the  hour. 
Most  of  the  great  ladies  of  the  Court  bowed  in  the 
Countess  of  Huntingdon's  drawing-room.  My  Lord 
Bolingbroke,  with  "that  saint,  our  friend  Lord  Chester- 
field," listened  with  admiration  to  the  "apostolical  per- 
son," —  as  Bolingbroke  termed  him,  —  while  Bubb 
Dodington,  George  Selwyn,  Lord  Lyttleton,  Lord 
Townshend,  Lord  Sandwich,  Lord  North,  William 
Pitt,  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  Frederick,  Prince  of 
Wales,  and  a  long  array  of  other  titled  folk  swelled  the 
company  of  his  hearers.  "If  you  think  of  coming  to 
England,"  wrote  Walpole  to  Horace  Mann,  "you  must 
prepare  yourself  with  Methodism.  I  really  think  by 
that  time  it  will  be  necessary." 


198  JOHN  WESLEY 

There  is  no  reason  to  charge  Whitefield  with  any 
fooHsh  vanity  over  this  popularity  in  the  world  of  rank 
and  fashion ;  but  it  was  in  part  the  hope  of  permanent 
influence  there,  encouraged  by  the  advice  of  the  Count- 
ess, that  led  him  to  change  somewhat  his  plan  of  work 
and  his  relation  to  the  Methodist  movement.  Up  to 
this  time,  he  had  been  recognized  as  having  a  certain 
authority  over  the  numerous  societies  formed  in  Eng- 
land and  Wales  among  those  Methodists  holding  Cal- 
vinistic  opinions;  though  that  authority  was  not  se- 
cured by  any  such  strict  organization  as  that  which 
obtained  in  the  societies  under  the  control  of  Wesley. 
But  now,  at  the  close  of  1748,  Whitefield  seems  to  have 
determined  to  sever  his  official  connection  with  the  Cal- 
vinistic  societies,  and  to  make  no  further  attempt  to 
form  such  societies,  but  rather  to  give  himself,  while  in 
England,  to  the  work  of  a  preacher  and  evangelist.  The 
Countess  did  not  look  with  much  favor  upon  the  mul- 
tiplication of  societies  like  Wesley's,  ministered  to  by 
lay  preachers,  and  tending  constantly  toward  separa- 
tion from  the  Church.  It  was,  rather,  her  desire  to 
stimulate  the  growth  of  vital  religion  within  the  Church, 
and,  with  that  purpose,  to  secure  patronage  and  influ- 
ence for  preachers  of  a  pronounced  evangelical  type. 
She  was  on  the  watch  for  young  men  of  promise  who 
were  of  devout  and  aggressive  religious  character;  she 
provided  means  for  their  education,  and  then  used  her 
influence  to  procure  for  them  ordination.  She  usually 
had  several  proteges  in  the  universities;  and  in  1768 
she  founded  a  college  of  her  own  in  Trevecca,  Wales, 
for  the  training  of  young  men  who  were  to  enter  the 
ministry,  either  in  the  Established  Church  or  in  any 
other  Protestant  denomination. 


THE  YEARS   OF   SUCCESS  199 

All  these  measures  had  Wesley's  cordial  approval. 
He  now  and  then  betrayed  a  little  impatience  at  White- 
field's  pious  complacency  over  his  ** elect  ladies,"  and 
probably  was  more  than  a  little  doubtful  whether  any 
lasting  work  of  grace  was  being  wrought  in  the  hearts 
of  those  great  but  giddy  folk  who  listened  to  the  fash- 
ionable Methodist  one  night,  and  the  next  night  crowded 
to  the  theatre  or  the  ridotto.  Whitefield,  for  his  part, 
with  his  impulsive  nature,  was  always  liable  to  moods 
in  which  he  thought  Wesley  unjust  or  jealous;  but 
their  friendship  was  too  deep  and  their  zeal  too  intense 
for  the  cause  in  which  they  both  were  laboring  to  allow 
any  lasting  disturbance  of  the  sympathy  between  them. 
Some  of  Whitefield's  preachers,  indeed,  were  not  so 
cautious  or  so  charitable;  and,  as  early  as  1739,  spoke 
bitterly  against  the  doctrine  and  the  discipline  of  Wes- 
ley. So  long,  however,  as  Whitefield  was  in  England, 
there  was  little  danger  of  an  outbreak  of  virulent  con- 
troversy. 

But  in  September,  1769,  Whitefield  sailed  on  his 
seventh  and  last  voyage  to  America;  one  year  from 
that  time  he  died  at  Newburyport.  When  he  was 
gone,  there  was  no  curb  upon  the  violence  of  some  of 
the  Countess  of  Huntingdon's  younger  ministers.  Two 
of  them  in  particular,  though  we  must  suppose  them 
pious  and  earnest  men,  gained  an  unenviable  reputa- 
tion for  rancor  in  controversy,  Toplady  and  Rowland 
Hill. 

Augustus  Montague  Toplady  was  the  son  of  an  army 
officer,  and  was  born  in  1740.  He  had  some  training 
in  Westminster  School,  but  at  the  death  of  his  father 
the  widowed  mother  removed  with  her  son  to  a  small 
estate  in  Ireland,  and  entered  him  at  Trinity  College, 


200  JOHN  WESLEY 

Dublin.  Shortly  before  his  admission  to  college,  he 
heard  one  of  Wesley's  lay  preachers,  professed  con- 
version, and  decided  to  take  orders.  In  those  early 
days  he  looked  up  to  Wesley  as  his  spiritual  father, 
and  wrote  him  —  as  so  many  did  —  for  counsel  as  to 
his  religious  life ;  but  his  theological  opinions  seem  to 
have  been  early  inclined  toward  Calvinism.  On  leav- 
ing college,  he  came  over  to  England  and  obtained  the 
small  living  of  Blagdon  in  Somerset,  which  he  exchanged 
a  few  years  later  for  the  vicarage  of  Broadhembury  in 
Devon.  While  here,  he  came  under  the  more  imme- 
diate influence  of  Lady  Huntingdon.  He  frequently 
preached  in  her  chapel  at  Bath,  and  soon  came  to  be 
accounted  one  of  her  most  useful  helpers.  Ardent 
and  impetuous  in  temper,  with  a  vein  of  genuine  poetry 
in  his  nature,  he  threw  himself  into  his  every  undertak- 
ing with  a  zeal  that  soon  burned  out  a  feeble  and  sickly 
body.  A  brilliant  and  rapid  extempore  preacher,  he 
had  little  breadth  or  power  of  thought.  He  never 
could  see  more  than  one  side  of  any  question,  and  thus 
could  hardly  help  impugning  the  honesty  of  those  who 
differed  with  him.  He  carried  into  controversy  all  the 
intense  sincerity  of  a  narrow  man,  and  often  allowed 
his  zeal  for  what  he  thought  truth  to  hurry  him  into 
unchristian  bitterness  of  feeling  and  indecent  violence 
of  speech.  Some  of  his  pamphlets  unite  the  ardor  of 
the  devotee  with  the  manners  of  Billingsgate. 

But  the  worst  abuse  of  Toplady  was  surpassed  by 
the  deliberate  and  studied  scurrility  of  Hill.  Rowland 
Hill,  a  younger  son  of  an  old  Shropshire  family,  had 
been  adopted  as  a  spiritual  protege  of  Lady  Hunting- 
don, while  yet  an  undergraduate  of  St.  John's  College, 
Cambridge,   and   for  some  years  thereafter  was  her 


THE  YEARS   OF  SUCCESS  201 

doughty  champion.  On  leaving  the  university  in  1769, 
he  had  been  disappointed  in  his  plan  to  take  orders; 
no  less  than  six  bishops  refused  his  application  for  ordi- 
nation, on  the  ground  of  his  irregular  preaching  while 
in  Cambridge.  But  the  pious  activities  of  the  young 
Cambridge  undergraduate  which  the  bishops  stigma- 
tized as  irregular  were  precisely  what  recommended 
him  to  the  favor  of  the  Countess  of  Huntingdon.  De- 
termined that  the  entrance  to  a  useful  career  should 
not  be  denied  to  such  an  earnest  young  man  by  episco- 
pal obstinacy,  she  encouraged  him  to  preach  without 
ordination,  opened  to  him  freely  her  chapel  at  Bath, 
and  secured  for  him  large  audiences  in  other  places  in 
that  neighborhood.  His  eldest  brother  Richard  — 
who  after  the  death  of  the  father  succeeded  to  the  fam- 
ily title  of  baronet  —  was  also  a  warm  supporter  of 
the  Countess,  and  during  the  years  of  controversy  from 
1769  to  1775,  the  Calvinistic  party  had  no  more  vigor- 
ous defenders  than  the  brothers  Hill.  The  long  and 
useful  career  of  Rowland  Hill  must  command  our  re- 
spect; but  it  is  impossible  to  have  anything  but  indig- 
nation for  the  truculence  and  vulgarity  that  defaced  his 
early  controversial  writing. 

In  the  spring  of  1768,  six  students  were  expelled  from 
St.  Edmund's  Hall,  Oxford,  for  Methodist  doctrines 
and  practice.  It  was  charged  that  they  held  illegal 
conventicles,  and  preached,  though  not  in  orders;  that 
they  taught  the  false  doctrine  that  faith  without  works 
is  sufficient  for  salvation,  and  that  there  is,  therefore, 
no  necessity  for  good  works;  and,  moreover,  that  they 
were  illiterate  and  "incapable  of  performing  the  stated 
duties  of  the  university."  The  young  men  were  none 
of  them  connected  with  Wesley's  societies,  but  it  was 


202  JOHN  WESLEY 

reported,  probably  with  truth,  that  some  or  all  of  them 
were  supported  by  the  Countess  of  Huntingdon.  At 
all  events,  that  lady  was  indignant  at  the  action  of  the 
university  authorities,  and  five  months  later  opened  a 
college  of  her  own  at  Trevecca  in  Wales,  where  the 
conscientious  exercise  of  the  duties  of  religion  would 
not  expose  young  men  to  discipline  and  penalty.  Mean- 
time, her  friends  took  up  the  cause  of  the  expelled  Ox- 
ford men.  Rowland  Hill  was  still  in  Cambridge ;  but 
his  brother  Richard  issued  a  pamphlet  in  which  he 
defended  vigorously  not  only  the  conduct  but  the  creed 
which  had  been  disapproved  by  the  Oxford  authorities. 
This  called  out  a  reply  from  Dr.  Nowell,  Principal  of 
St.  Mary's  Hall,  proving  the  Calvinist  doctrines  the 
young  men  had  taught  to  be  contrary  to  the  standards 
of  the  Church  of  England.  The  battle  was  now  fairly 
on,  and  Toplady  rushed  bristling  into  the  field  with 
two  pamphlets,  one  a  vindication  of  the  Church  from 
Nowell's  charge  of  Arminianism,  and  the  other  a  stout 
assertion  of  the  doctrine  of  absolute  predestination, 
translated  from  the  Latin  of  Zanchius.^ 

Wesley  had  always  maintained  most  cordial  relations 
with  the  Countess  of  Huntingdon,  though  perhaps 
sometimes  chafing  a  little  under  her  superior  tone  of 
patronage ;  but  he  had  for  some  time  past  viewed  with 
increasing  uneasiness  her  efforts  in  bringing  together  a 
group  of  preachers  who  were  known  to  the  world  as 
Methodists,  but  who  had  no  connection  with  his  socie- 
ties, and  who  were  being  schooled  to  teach  doctrines  he 

^  Girolamo  Zanchi,  1516-1590,  an  Italian  theologian  who  was  forced 
to  leave  Italy  because  he  adopted  Protestant  doctrines,  was  for  a  term  a 
leader  in  the  reformed  church  in  Geneva,  and  passed  the  later  years  of 
his  life  as  Professor  in  Heidelberg. 


THE  YEARS   OF  SUCCESS  203 

himself  most  heartily  repudiated.  He  had  Httle  incH- 
nation  for  controversy;  but  he  found  it  impossible  to 
remain  altogether  quiet  under  the  cool  positiveness  with 
which  these  young  preachers  —  Toplady  was  not  yet 
thirty  —  announced  doctrines  that  seemed  to  him  mon- 
strous. He  left  formal  reply  mostly  to  others;  but  he 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  applying  to  Toplady 
the  reductio  ad  absurdum.  He  abridged  the  translation 
of  Zanchius  into  a  pamphlet  of  twelve  pages,  without 
note  or  comment,  simply  adding  at  the  close  this  para- 
graph :  — 

"The  sum  of  all  is  this:  one  in  twenty  (suppose)  of 
mankind  are  elected ;  nineteen  in  twenty  are  repro- 
bated. The  elect  shall  be  saved,  do  what  they  will; 
the  reprobate  shall  be  damned,  do  what  they  can. 
Reader,  believe  this  or  be  damned.     Witness  my  hand. 

A—  T— ." 

Toplady  was  not  likely  to  keep  silent  under  such  an 
arraignment  as  this.  In  angry  rejoinder  he  branded 
Wesley's  abridgment  as  a  wilful  travesty  of  his  trea- 
tise, and  the  summary  paragraph  as  an  attempt  to  foist 
upon  him  a  monstrous  perversion  of  the  truth.  *'In 
almost  any  other  case,  a  similar  forgery  would  transmit 
the  criminal  to  Virginia  or  Maryland,  if  not  to  Ty- 
burn." Wesley,  he  says,  is  guilty  of  "Satanic  shame- 
lessness,"  of  "acting  the  ignoble  part  of  a  lurking,  sly 
assassin,"  "  uniting  the  sophistry  of  a  Jesuit  with  the 
authority  of  a  pope,"  of  sinking  the  discussion  "to  the 
level  of  an  oyster  woman."  One  might  have  supposed 
that  some  respect  for  the  years  of  a  great  religious 
teacher,  his  senior  by  almost  half  a  century,  might  have 
restrained   somewhat  the  violence  of  this  young  de- 


204  JOHN  WESLEY 

claimer ;  but  it  never  did.  The  bitter  animosity  shown 
in  this  pamphlet  characterized  all  his  later  relations 
with  Wesley,  and  for  the  next  seven  years  the  Gospel 
Magazine^  which  he  edited,  emitted  from  time  to  time 
articles  filled  with  noisome  invective  to  which  the  only 
fit  reply  was  pitying  or  contemptuous  silence. 

Meantime,  there  was  good  reason  to  think  this  un- 
brotherly  temper  was  not  the  only  ill  result  of  the  con- 
troversy. In  particular,  the  spread  of  the  Antinomian 
doctrine  that  good  works  were  not  necessary  to  salva- 
tion had  a  very  injurious  effect  upon  the  morality  of 
some  Methodists.  Fletcher  declared  that  "Antino- 
mian principles  and  practice"  were  spreading  like  wild- 
fire in  some  of  the  societies.  In  these  circumstances, 
Wesley  felt  it  necessary  at  the  session  of  the  Conference 
in  1770  to  make  a  full  and  explicit  statement  of  his 
teaching  upon  the  subject  of  faith  and  works.  The 
leading  theses  of  this  famous  declaration,  in  the  quaint 
form  of  question  and  answer  in  which  the  Minutes  of 
the  Conference  were  always  phrased,  were  the  fol- 
lowing :  — 

''We  have  leaned  too  much  toward  Calvinism. 
Wherein  ? 

"  I.  With  regard  to  man's  faithfulness.  Our  Lord 
himself  taught  us  to  use  this  expression ;  and  we  ought 
never  to  be  ashamed  of  it. 

"  2.  With  regard  to  working  for  life.  This  also  our 
Lord  has  expressly  commanded,  as  'Labor,'  ipydt,e(T6e, 
literally,  'work'  for  the  meat  that  endureth  to  everlast- 
ing life.  And,  in  fact,  every  believer  till  he  comes  to 
glory,  works  for  as  well  as  from  life. 

"3.  We  have  received  it  as  a  maxim  that  'a  man  is 
to  do  nothing  in  order  to  justification.'  Nothing  can 
be   more  false.      Whoever  desires  to  find  favor  with 


THE  YEARS   OF   SUCCESS  205 

God  should  'cease  to  do  evil  and  learn  to  do  well.' 
Whoever  repents  should  do  'works  meet  for  repentance.' 
And  if  this  is  not  in  order  to  find  favor,  what  does  he 
do  them  for  ? 

"Review  the  whole  affair:  Who  of  us  is  now  ac- 
cepted of  God  ?  He  that  now  believes  in  Christ  with  a 
loving  and  obedient  heart.  Who  among  those  that 
never  heard  of  Christ?  He  that  feareth  God  and 
worketh  righteousness  according  to  the  light  he  had. 
Is  this  the  same  with  '  he  that  is  sincere '  ?  Nearly,  if 
not  quite.  Is  not  this  'Salvation  by  works'?  Not  by 
the  merit  of  works,  but  by  works  as  a  condition.  What 
have  we  been  disputing  about  for  these  thirty  years? 
I  am  afraid  about  words. 

"As  to  merit  itself,  of  which  we  have  been  so  dread- 
fully afraid  ;  we  are  rewarded  'according  to  our  works.' 
How  does  this  differ  from  ]or  the  sake  of  our  works? 
And  how  differs  this  from  secundum  merita  operum? 
Can  you  split  this  hair  ?     I  doubt  I  cannot. 

"Does  not  talking  of  a  justified  or  a  sanctified  state 
tend  to  mislead  men?  Almost  naturally  leading  them 
to  trust  in  what  was  done  in  one  moment?  Whereas, 
we  are  every  moment  and  hour  pleasing  or  displeasing 
to  God  '  according  to  our  works, '  —  according  to  the 
whole  of  our  inward  tempers  and  our  outward  be- 
havior." 

This  statement  threw  the  Calvinist  preachers  into 
consternation.  The  Countess  of  Huntingdon,  resolved 
to  countenance  no  such  heresy,  promptly  announced 
that  any  one  in  her  college  at  Trevecca  who  did  not  dis- 
avow Mr.  Wesley's  theses  must  be  expelled.  As  a  re- 
sult she  lost  her  headmaster,  Mr.  Benson ;  and  Fletcher 
of  Madeley,  who  had  served  as  president  of  the  college, 
though  not  constantly  in  residence  there,  also  felt  it 
necessary  to  resign  his  office.  The  Countess  seems  to 
have  thought  it  possible  to  bring  such  a  pressure  upon 


2o6  JOHN   WESLEY 

Wesley  as  would  force  him  to  retract  his  Minutes  at 
the  next  session  of  the  Conference,  which  was  to  be 
held  in  Bristol.  With  this  purpose  her  cousin  and 
agent,  the  Rev.  Walter  Shirley,  drew  up  a  circular  let- 
ter and  sent  it  to  a  large  number  of  his  Calvinist  friends,, 
urging  that  as  many  as  possible,  both  clergy  and  laity ^ 
of  those  who  disapproved  Mr.  Wesley's  "dreadful  her- 
esy" should  assemble  in  Bristol  during  the  session  of 
the  Conference,  and  "go  in  a  body  to  the  said  Con- 
ference to  insist  on  a  formal  recantation  of  the  said 
Minutes."  In  case  of  a  refusal,  they  were  to  sign  and 
publish  their  emphatic  protest  —  a  copy  of  which  was 
enclosed  with  the  letter.  This  manifesto  of  the  Countess, 
however,  met  with  no  very  general  response.  It  was 
probably  evident  even  to  her  friends  that  she  had  no 
business  with  Wesley's  Conference,  and  that,  in  any 
case,  the  attempt  to  force  such  a  man  as  John  Wesley 
to  retract  opinions  he  had  officially  announced  was 
hardly  likely  to  succeed.  When  the  time  came,  it  was 
found  that  the  assembly  which  was  to  overawe  Wesley 
and  his  Conference  mustered  only  eight  men,  of  whom 
two  were  young  students  from  Trevecca,  and  only  Shir- 
ley had  the  slightest  pretensions  to  ability  or  influence. 
A  little  disheartened,  perhaps,  by  this  feeble  promise 
of  support,  both  the  Countess  and  Shirley  addressed 
conciliatory  letters  to  Wesley  on  the  evening  before  the 
Conference  met.  The  Countess  protested  that  she  had 
intended  no  personal  disrespect  to  him  in  her  action^ 
but  "only  a  degree  of  zeal  against  the  principles  of  the 
Minutes";  while  Shirley  professed  himself  ready  to 
apologize  for  any  hasty  or  offensive  expressions  in  his 
letter.  Wesley,  who  had  written  to  Lady  Huntingdon 
some  six  weeks  before  in  a  tone  of  kindly  remonstrance. 


THE  YEARS   OF  SUCCESS  207 

did  not  feel  it  necessary  to  answer  either  of  these  letters ; 
but  consented  to  receive  Shirley  and  his  companions  at 
a  session  of  the  Conference.  The  interview  proved  to 
be  conciliatory.  Shirley  did  not  press  for  any  formal 
recantation,  but,  after  considerable  discussion,  pre- 
sented to  the  Conference  for  signature  a  paper  contain- 
ing an  admission  that  the  language  of  the  Minutes  had 
not  been  sufficiently  guarded,  and  defining  the  obnox- 
ious doctrine  in  a  way  that,  it  was  hoped,  might  be  sat- 
isfactory to  both  parties.  ''No  one  is  a  real  Christian," 
so  the  statement  ran,  "and  consequently  cannot  be 
saved,  who  doeth  not  good  works,  yet  our  works  have 
no  part  in  meriting  or  purchasing  our  salvation."  This 
paper,  after  some  slight  changes  in  its  phrasing,  Wesley 
accepted  and  signed,  with  fifty-three  of  his  ministers. 
Shirley  professed  himself  satisfied,  and  retired  from  the 
interview  declaring  it  one  of  the  happiest  days  of  his 
life. 

This  attempt  at  compromise,  however,  proved  rather 
a  new  beginning  than  the  end  of  controversy.  Wesley 
always  insisted,  and  justly,  that  there  was  nothing  in 
the  declaration  he  had  signed  inconsistent  with  his  pre- 
vious teaching.  The  Minutes  of  1770,  he  claimed,  had 
only  emphasized  that  side  of  a  doctrine  which  at  the 
moment  needed  emphasis.  Nor  was  that  need,  in  his 
opinion,  by  any  means  past.  Just  before  the  begin- 
ning of  the  Bristol  Conference  he  had  received  and  sent 
to  the  printer  a  pamphlet  by  Fletcher  explaining  and 
vindicating  the  obnoxious  Minutes.  This  pamphlet 
Shirley  now  requested  him  to  withdraw  or  suppress; 
but  Wesley  declined.  He  felt  he  had  no  right  to  be 
silent  when  his  silence  would  be  accounted  a  tacit  as- 
sent to  the  widespread  misrepresentation  and  denun- 


2o8  JOHN   WESLEY 

ciation  of  his  doctrine.  Fletcher's  pamphlet  was  hur- 
ried through  the  press,  and  published  soon  after  the 
adjournment  of  the  Conference.  It  is  the  first  of  his 
well-known  **  Checks."  Shirley,  on  the  other  hand, 
thought,  or  professed  to  think,  this  action  a  violation 
of  the  Compromise  implied  in  the  Declaration  Wesley 
and  his  preachers  had  signed,  and  he  replied  with  great 
bitterness,  charging  Wesley  with  sophistry  and  bad 
faith.  Richard  Hill  and  his  brother  Rowland,  —  now 
out  of  the  University,  —  Toplady,  and  a  number  of 
smaller  men,  soon  joined  full  cry  in  the  attack.  The 
controversy  that  followed  we  need  not  trace  in  detail. 
It  lasted  several  years,  and  it  was  not  edifying.  Wesley 
himself  took  little  or  no  part  in  it.  And  it  should  be 
said  that  his  principal  defenders,  Sellon  and  Fletcher, 
never  descended  to  the  vulgar  abuse  that  too  often 
defiled  the  pages  of  their  opponents.  But  no  contri- 
bution of  any  permanent  value  to  the  age-long  argu- 
ment was  made  by  either  side,  unless  we  are  to  except 
the  series  of  papers  by  Fletcher,  commonly  known  as 
"Checks  to  Antinomianism."  These  in  their  collected 
form  have  been  ever  since  regarded  as  one  of  the  stand- 
ards of  Methodist  doctrine.  Fletcher  was  a  clear  and 
facile  writer,  with  a  talent  for  debate  and  a  knack  of 
telling  illustration  and  example.  His  gentle  temper 
could  not  be  betrayed  into  harshness  or  scurrility ;  but 
he  was  master  of  a  quiet  irony,  all  the  more  effective 
that  it  was  never  angry  or  acrimonious.  It  may  be 
admitted  that  he  by  no  means  said  the  last  word  on  the 
insoluble  problem  he  was  discussing;  indeed,  perhaps 
he  hardly  perceived  its  profoundest  difficulties.  But 
he  gave  a  satisfactory  reply  to  the  crude  and  morally 
repulsive  form  of  Calvinism  urged  by  his  opponents. 


THE  YEARS   OF   SUCCESS 


209 


It  was  the  best  result  —  perhaps  it  was  the  only  good 
result  —  of  the  whole  controversy  that  it  committed 
Wesleyan  Methodism  definitely  and  unalterably  to  an 
Arminian  theology.  And  it  will  not  be  denied  that  to 
the  influence  of  Wesleyan  Methodism,  on  both  sides 
the  Atlantic,  is  due  in  no  small  degree  the  almost  uni-, 
versal  abandonment  of  that  merciless  logic  which  reads; 
in  the  will  of  God  the  denial  of  the  human  will,  and' 
the  absolute,  irrevocable  doom  before  their  birth  of  a 
great  majority  of  the  human  race.  It  is  the  demand 
of  ultimate  reason  that  we  should  insist,  at  cost  of  what- 
ever logical  inconsistency,  upon  a  God  of  justice  and  of 
love.     Only  such  a  God  can  men  love  and  worship. 

But  it  cannot  be  too  often  repeated  that  Wesley's 
temper  was  not  controversial.  He  claimed  the  privi- 
lege of  teaching  what  he  deemed  the  truth,  and  some- 
times, therefore,  felt  it  necessary  to  answer  perversions 
or  misrepresentations  of  his  teaching.  He  also  ex- 
pected, very  justly,  that  his  preachers,  for  whose  teach- 
ing he  was  responsible,  should  not  inculcate  doctrines 
at  open  variance  with  his  own.  But  he  never  made  the 
acceptance  of  his  own  opinions  the  test  of  a  Christian 
life.  He  did  not  even  attempt  to  impose  his  doctrines 
upon  his  own  societies.  Calvinists  and  Arminians 
were  welcomed  there,  if  they  could  unite  in  Chris- 
tian sympathy  and  labor.  Given  the  central  force  of  a 
religious  life  manifesting  itself  in  devout  and  beneficent 
activity,  and  he  asked  no  more.  From  first  to  last,  no 
other  condition  of  membership  was  required.  As  early 
as  1742,  Wesley  wrote:  "The  distinguishing  marks  of 
a  Methodist  are  not  his  opinions  of  any  sort.  His 
assenting  to  this  or  that  scheme  of  religion,  his  embrac- 
ing any  particular  set  of  notions,  his  espousing  the 


2IO  JOHN  WESLEY 

judgment  of  one  man  or  another,  are  all  quite  wide  of 
the  point.  Whoever,  therefore,  imagines  that  a  Method- 
ist is  a  man  of  such  or  such  an  opinion  is  grossly  igno- 
rant of  the  whole  affair.  ...  Is  thy  heart  right,  as 
my  heart  is  with  thine  ?  I  ask  no  further  question.  If 
it  be,  give  me  thy  hand.  Dost  thou  love  and  serve  God  ? 
It  is  enough,  I  give  thee  the  right  hand  of  fellow- 
ship." ' 

And  more  than  forty  years  later,  at  the  very  end  of 
his  life,  he  reaffirms  the  same  position  even  more  ex- 
plicitly :  — 

''One  circumstance  more  is  quite  peculiar  to  the  peo- 
ple called  Methodists;  that  is,  the  terms  upon  which 
any  person  may  be  admitted  to  their  society.  They  do 
not  impose,  in  order  to  their  admission,  any  opinions 
whatsoever.  Let  them  hold  particular  or  general  re- 
demption, absolute  or  conditional  decrees ;  let  them  be 
Churchmen  or  Dissenters,  Presbyterians  or  Indepen- 
dents, it  is  no  obstacle.  Let  them  choose  one  mode  of 
baptism  or  another;  it  is  no  bar  to  their  admission. 
The  Presbyterian  may  be  a  Presbyterian  still;  the  In- 
dependent or  Anabaptist  use  his  own  mode  of  worship. 
So  may  the  Quaker;  and  none  will  contend  with  him 
about  it.  They  think,  and  let  think.  One  condition 
and  one  only,  is  required  —  a  real  desire  to  save  their 
soul.  Where  this  is,  it  is  enough ;  they  desire  no  more ; 
they  lay  stress  upon  nothing  else;  they  ask  only,  'Is 
thy  heart  herein  as  my  heart?  If  it  be,  give  me  thy 
hand.'  Is  there  any  other  society  in  Great  Britain  or 
Ireland  that  is  so  remote  from  bigotry?  That  is  so 
truly  of  a  catholic  spirit  ?  So  ready  to  admit  all  serious 
persons  without  distinction  ?     Where  then  is  there  such 

1  "  The  Character  of  a  Methodist,"  1742. 


THE  YEARS   OF  SUCCESS  211 

another  society  in  Europe?  In  the  habitable  world? 
I  know  none.     Let  any  man  show  it  me  that  can."  ^ 

Over  and  over  again,  throughout  his  whole  career, 
he  expresses  this  hearty  tolerance  of  opinions  at  vari- 
ance with  his  own,  whenever  they  do  not  prove  in- 
consistent with  a  genuinely  religious  life.  "I  am 
sick  of  opinions,"  he  says  in  his  "  Further  Appeal  to 
Men  of  Reason,"  1745  ;  "let  my  soul  be  with  Christians 
wherever  they  be,  and  of  whatsoever  opinion  they  be 
of."  In  a  letter  to  a  friend  he  declares:  "'Is  a  man  a 
believer  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  is  his  life  suitable  to  his 
profession?'  are  not  only  the  main,  but  the  sole  in- 
quiries I  make  in  order  to  his  admission  into  our 
society."  ^  Discussing  this  matter  of  beliefs  before 
his  Conference  once  he  said:  "I  have  no  more  right  to 
object  to  a  man  for  holding  a  different  opinion  from 
mine  than  I  have  to  differ  with  a  man  because  he  wears 
a  wig  and  I  wear  my  own  hair ;  but  if  he  takes  his  wig 
off  and  shakes  the  powder  in  my  eyes,  I  shall  consider 
it  my  duty  to  get  quit  of  him  as  soon  as  possible." 
His  charity,  indeed,  extended  far  outside  the  limits  of 
strict  orthodoxy.  In  his  noble  "Letter  to  a  Roman 
Catholic,"  1749,  after  enumerating  the  beliefs  and  pur- 
poses they  held  in  common,  he  continues :  — 

"Are  we  not  thus  far  agreed?  Let  us  thank  God 
for  this,  and  receive  it  as  a  fresh  token  of  his  love. 
But  if  God  still  loveth  us,  we  ought  also  to  love  one 
another.  We  ought,  without  this  endless  jangling  about 
opinions,  to  provoke  one  another  to  love  and  good 
works.  Let  the  points  wherein  we  differ  stand  aside : 
here  are  enough  wherein  we  agree,  enough  to  be  the 

^  "Thoughts  upon  a  Late  Phenomenon,"  1788. 
2  Journal,  May  14,  1765. 


212  JOHN   WESLEY 

ground  of  every  Christian  temper,  and  of  every  Chris- 
tian action." 

He  printed  for  Methodists  a  Hfe  of  that  good  Uni- 
tarian, Thomas  Firmin  —  a  very  pious  man,  he  said. 
The  arch-heretics  of  history,  Montanus  of  the  second 
century,  Pelagius  of  the  fifth  century,  Servetus  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  —  he  declared  that,  in  his  opinion, 
they  were  all  holy  men,  who,  at  the  last,  with  all  the 
good  men  of  the  heathen  world,  Socrates,  and  Plato, 
and  Trajan,  and  Marcus  Aurelius,  would  come  from 
the  east  and  the  west  to  sit  down  in  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven.  Religious  history  from  the  dawn  of  Chris- 
tianity to  the  present  day  may  be  searched  in  vain  to 
find  another  leader  of  equal  prominence  and  equal 
positiveness  of  personal  opinion  who  showed  such 
genuine  liberality  as  the  great  founder  of  Methodism. 

Nor  was  the  religious  life  which  Wesley  enjoined 
upon  the  members  of  his  societies  enthusiastic  or 
mystical.  The  whole  Wesleyan  movement,  despite  a 
contrary  opinion  widely  current  then  and  sometimes 
heard  even  now,  owed  its  success  very  largely  to  the 
fact  that  the  type  of  religion  it  fostered  was  thoroughly 
healthy  and  practical.  The  movement,  it  is  true,  was 
not  merely  or  primarily  ethical,  but  rather  evangel- 
ical; it  was  distinctively  a  religious  revival.  It  was 
inevitable,  moreover,  that  such  a  movement  as  the 
Wesleyan  revival  should  be  accompanied  by  much  emo- 
tional excitement.  It  is  only  by  some  strong  compul- 
sion of  soul  that  men  by  thousands  can  be  led  to  turn 
from  long-confirmed  habits  of  vice  to  a  life  clean, 
righteous,  devout.  And  such  a  passage  from  moral 
disease  to  moral  health  must  often  be  marked  by 
something  of   morbid    or   irregular   excitement.     But 


THE  YEARS   OF  SUCCESS  213 

grant  all  this,  and  it  may  be  confidently  affirmed  that 
seldom  or  never  has  a  great  popular  religious  reform, 
so  widespread  and  so  searching,  been  more  free  from 
unwholesome  teaching  and  unwholesome  stimulus. 

The  truth  is,  Wesley  impressed  upon  his  societies 
his  own  type  of  religion,  and  that  type  was  preemi- 
nently sane  and  practical.  As  we  have  noted  in  a 
previous  chapter,  there  is  in  his  Journal,  after  about 
1740,  hardly  a  reference  to  his  own  emotions,  to  what 
is  commonly  called  personal  religious  experience.  After 
he  had  got  out  from  under  the  influence  of  the  Mora- 
vians, he  had  no  patience  with  anything  like  mysti- 
cism, or  quietism,  or  enthusiasm.  The  result  was  that 
the  Wesleyan  movement,  throughout  its  whole  course, 
tended  to  foster  the  virtues  of  good  citizenship.  The 
condition  of  membership  in  the  societies  was  always 
conduct.  Wherever  they  were  formed,  it  was  noticeable 
not  only  that  they  diminished  the  more  flagrant  forms 
of  vice,  but  that  they  raised  the  standard  of  morals 
throughout  the  community.  Some  prevalent  forms 
of  crime  were  almost  eradicated.  In  his  earlier  visits 
to  Cornwall,  for  example,  Wesley  found  that  nearly 
all  the  members  of  his  societies  were  in  the  habit  of 
buying  and  selling  goods  that  had  not  paid  the  duty. 
It  was  not  thought  immoral;  everybody  did  it.  But 
Wesley's  rule  was  explicit  and  peremptory.  Meeting 
his  large  society  at  St.  Ives,  he  "found  an  accursed 
thing  among  them;  well-nigh  one  and  all  bought  or 
sold  uncustomed  goods.  I  therefore  delayed  speaking 
to  any  more  till  I  had  met  them  all  together.  This  I 
did  in  the  evening,  and  told  them  plain,  either  they 
must  put  this  abomination  away,  or  they  would  see 
my  face  no  more."     Next  day  they  individually  prom- 


214  JOHN  WESLEY 

iscd  to  do  so.  Making  the  round  of  his  Cornish 
societies,  some  years  later,  in  1762,  he  can  note  in  his 
Journal,  "that  detestable  practice  of  cheating  the  King 
is  no  more  found  in  our  societies."  The  records  of 
the  excise  show  that,  in  fact,  smuggling  had  greatly 
diminished  along  the  Cornish  coast.  In  some  of  the 
northern  counties  the  practice  died  harder.  In  1776, 
Joseph  Benson  had  expelled  a  smuggler  from  the  New- 
castle Society.  Wesley  wrote  him:  "You  did  right. 
Fear  nothing.  Begin  in  the  name  of  God  and  go 
through  with  it.  If  only  six  will  promise  you  to  sin 
no  more,  leave  only  six.  .  .  .  You  must,  at  all  events, 
tear  up  this  evil  by  the  roots." 

So,  too,  the  current  practice  of  bribery  at  elections 
Wesley  denounced  as  impossible  for  a  Christian  man. 
He  published  pamphlets  against  it  and  distributed 
them  broadcast.  "For  God's  sake,"  he  wrote  to  his 
Bristol  societies,  "for  the  honor  of  the  Gospel,  for  your 
country's  sake,  for  the  sake  of  your  own  souls,  beware 
of  bribery.  Before  you  see  me  again,  the  trial  will 
come  at  the  general  election  for  members  of  parlia- 
ment. On  no  account  take  money  or  money's  worth. 
Keep  yourselves  pure.  Give,  not  sell,  your  vote. 
Touch  not  the  accursed  thing."  As  early  as  1747,  he 
had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  among  his  Cornish 
people  there  were  many  men  who  had  not  only  refused 
to  accept  money  for  their  votes,  but  would  not  even  eat 
or  drink  at  the  expense  of  the  candidate  for  whom  they 
voted.  Long  before  the  close  of  the  century,  Method- 
ists came  to  be  recognized  as  the  most  incorruptible 
class  of  voters  in  the  realm. 

It  has  been  said  by  some  critics  of  Methodism  that, 
while  Wesley  was,  indeed,  very  liberal  in  the  matter  of 


THE  YEARS   OF   SUCCESS  215 

belief,  the  rules  of  conduct  he  imposed  upon  his  societies 
were  unwisely  rigid.  He  is  charged  with  forbidding 
innocent  recreations  and  amusements,  discouraging  as 
worldly  the  accomplishments  that  heighten  the  charm 
of  society,  condemning  as  culpable  luxury  indulgence 
of  taste  in  dress  and  in  the  arts  of  the  household,  and, 
in  general,  fostering  an  ungenial  temper  that  divorces 
religion  from  beauty  and  shuts  out  the  pious  man  from 
much  that  refines  and  liberalizes  life. 

Nor  need  we  deny  that  there  is  at  least  some  plausi- 
bility in  such  an  arraignment.  It  may  certainly  be 
pardoned  to  a  great  religious  reformer,  if,  in  his  earnest- 
ness for  the  religious  welfare  of  his  followers,  he  is 
sometimes  too  careless  of  their  tastes  and  their  pleasures. 
Wesley  doubtless  was  somewhat  deficient  in  a  sense  of 
the  range  and  variety  of  life.  Then,  too,  his  own 
immense,  unremitting  industry  made  him  sometimes 
overexacting  in  his  demands  upon  others.  His  ideas 
of  education,  for  example,  were  vitiated  by  an  undue 
dread  of  idleness.  When  he  founded  his  boys'  school 
at  Kingswood,  his  first  rule  was  the  very  bad  one  that 
no  boy  should  be  allowed  any  time  at  all  for  play. 
This  Kingswood  school,  in  fact,  was  an  example  of 
many  things  that  a  boy's  school  ought  not  to  be.  Wes- 
ley's idea  of  discipline  led  now  to  intolerable  severity 
and  now  to  insufferable  laxity.  The  absence  of  all 
spontaneity,  the  system  of  religious  forcing  that  en- 
couraged pronounced  emotional  '' experiences"  of  re- 
pentance and  conversion,  gave  a  morbid  tone  to  the 
life  of  the  school,  and  resulted  in  seasons  of  hysterical 
excitement  followed  naturally  by  periods  of  reaction 
against  all  serious  things.  Wesley's  own  kindly  manner 
was  always  attractive  to  children,  and  he  was  personally 


21 6  JOHN  WESLEY 

very  fond  of  them,  especially  in  his  later  years ;  but  it 
cannot  be  said  his  religious  treatment  of  them  was 
always  wise.  Without  children  of  his  own  or  any 
real  knowledge  of  childhood,  his  notions  as  to  the 
proper  discipline  for  young  people  was  largely  derived 
from  his  recollection  of  his  mother's  parental  system; 
and  we  have  seen  that  Susannah  Wesley's  training 
of  her  children  was  not  in  every  instance  beyond 
criticism. 

But,  granting  all  this,  it  must  still  be  urged  that 
those  who  arraign  Wesley's  government  of  his  societies 
as  narrow  and  rigid  overlook  some  of  the  essential 
facts  in  the  case.  They  forget  that  a  large  proportion 
of  Wesley's  converts,  drawn  from  the  lower-middle 
class  of  society,  had  been  accustomed  to  few  recreations 
more  refined  than  the  cock-pit  and  the  bull-ring.  To 
people  of  this  class  hardly  any  amusements  were  ac- 
cessible that  would  have  been  approved  by  any  person 
careful  of  the  morals  of  society.  And  as  for  matters  of 
dress  and  other  forms  of  personal  expenditure,  Wesley 
well  knew  that  the  very  first  step  toward  the  formation 
of  good  taste  in  such  people  is  to  teach  them  the  charm 
of  simplicity.  Ostentation  is  vulgar  anywhere;  but 
nowhere  is  it  quite  so  vulgar  as  in  the  garish  display  of 
folk  just  rising  out  of  poverty.  He  saw  that,  in  thou- 
sands of  instances,  the  energy  and  industry  of  Meth- 
odists were  making  them  rich,  and  he  frequently  used 
to  express  his  apprehensions  that  the  societies  might 
not  be  proof  against  the  temptations  of  newly  acquired 
wealth.  It  was  surely  the  part  of  wisdom  to  enjoin 
upon  them  both  by  precept  and  example  the  virtue  of 
plain  living.  Wesley  himself  was  a  pattern  of  careful 
neatness  in  all  matters  of  dress.     And  there  was  always 


THE  YEARS   OF  SUCCESS  217 

a  quiet  dignity  in  his  manner  that  commanded  respect 
and  imitation.  The  teaching  and  example  of  such  a 
man  upon  the  social  conditions  of  his  people  could  not 
have  been  other  than  liberalizing.  In  fact  the  man  who 
exerted  the  most  beneficial  influence  upon  English 
manners  and  minor  morals  at  the  middle  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century  was  not  my  Lord  Chesterfield  or  any 
of  his  ilk;   it  was  John  Wesley. 

Nor  was  Wesley's  regard  for  the  interest  of  the 
members  of  his  societies  confined  by  any  unintelligent 
pietism.  He  deserves  to  be  considered  one  of  the 
earliest  advocates  of  popular  education.  It  was  one  of 
his  correspondents,  a  Miss  Ball,  who  started  the  first 
Sunday  School,  fourteen  years  before  Robert  Raikes 
opened  his;  and  it  was  another  Methodist  young 
woman.  Miss  Cooke,  who  first  suggested  to  Robert 
Raikes  the  idea  of  his  Gloucester  School.^  Wesley 
from  the  first  warmly  seconded  the  plan.  "So  many 
children,"  he  says  in  his  first  notice  of  the  schools,^  "in 
one  parish  are  restrained  from  open  sin,  and  taught 
a  little  good  manners,  at  least,  as  well  as  to  read 
the  Bible."  This  was  in  1784;  and  so  rapidly  did 
the  idea  spread  that  within  three  years  thereafter  the 
number  of  children  taught  in  Sunday  Schools  exceeded 
two  hundred  thousand.^  The  largest  of  the  schools 
were  under  Methodist  direction.  In  Newcastle,  for  in- 
stance, a  school  was  established  in  the  Orphan  House, 
attended  by  more  than  one  thousand  children.  In 
Bolton,  the  Methodist  Sunday  School,  opened  in  1785, 
had  for  about  twenty  years  an  average  attendance  of 
eighteen  hundred.     In  many  schools,  as  at  Bolton,  the 

1  Tyerman,  III,  415.  2  journal,  July  18,  1784. 

^  Tyerman,  III,  500. 


2i8  JOHN  WESLEY 

boys  and  girls  were  carefully  trained  in  music  as  well 
as  in  the  elementary  branches  of  learning.  Wesley, 
who  was  not  only  an  enthusiastic  lover  of  music,  but 
no  mean  critic,  declared  that  there  w^re  in  this  Bolton 
School  "a  hundred  such  trebles  as  are  not  to  be  found 
together  in  any  chapel,  cathedral,  or  music  room  within 
the  four  seas,"  and  when  the  w^hole  chorus  of  a  thousand 
sang  together,  "the  melody  was  beyond  that  of  any 
theatre." 

Wesley's  services  to  the  cause  of  popular  literature 
are  also  worthy  of  recognition.  He  positively  de- 
manded that  his  preachers  should  devote  a  certain  part 
of  their  time  to  methodical  reading  and  study,  and 
warmly  encouraged  the  reading  habit  in  all  his  societies. 
And  he  was  at  pains  to  put  good  reading  within  their 
reach.  The  Arminian  Magazine,  which  he  established 
in  1778,  was  one  of  the  first,  as  it  is  the  oldest,  popular 
magazine  in  England.  Although  intended  primarily 
to  inculcate  a  sound  theology,  and  like  all  other  "maga- 
zines" up  to  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century  — 
as  the  name  implies  —  a  kind  of  repository  for  ex- 
cerpts, letters,  anecdotes,  biographical  sketches,  and 
other  miscellany,  it  also  contained  from  the  start  some 
poetry,  notices  critical  and  literary,  and  other  matter 
calculated  to  cultivate  the  taste  as  well  as  the  piety  of 
its  readers.  Wesley's  own  writings,  which  touched 
almost  all  sorts  of  subjects,  and  the  hymns  by  himself 
and  his  brother  Charles,  were  published  in  the  cheapest 
possible  form  that  they  might  be  universally  circulated 
among  his  people.  He  prepared  or  abridged  treatises 
on  physics,  chemistry,  medicine,  history,  rhetoric,  poli- 
tics, selections  from  standard  poetry,  to  be  used  as 
popular  handbooks.     In  1 781,  he  issued  a  revised  and 


THE  YEARS   OF   SUCCESS  219 

somewhat  abridged  edition  of  a  popular  novel  he  much 
admired,  Brooke's  "  Fool  of  Quality."  In  every  way  he 
was  anxious  that  the  Methodist  movement  should  foster 
popular  intelligence  as  well  as  popular  morals. 

Nor  was  Wesley  insensible  to  the  higher  forms  of 
art.  An  impassioned  lover  of  music  in  its  nobler 
forms,  he  lost  no  opportunity  of  listening  to  it  when 
his  busy  life  would  allow.  He  repeatedly  records  in 
the  Journal  his  delight  in  oratorio.^  He  encouraged  the 
study  and  practice  of  music  wherever  practicable.  It 
was  with  his  sanction  that  Martin  Madan  opened  his 
chapel  once  a  year  for  the  performance  of  oratorio,  — 
an  act  which  Wesley's  biographer  cannot  bring  him- 
self to  approve,^  —  and  Wesley  speaks  with  enthusiasm 
of  hearing  "  Judith  "  and  "  Ruth  "  given  there.  Some 
of  the  best  of  Charles  Wesley's  hymns  were  set  to 
music  by  Handel ;  especially  admirable  is  his  setting 
for  that  noble  lyric  — 

"  Rejoice,  the  Lord  is  King." 

Wesley  himself,  with  the  aid  of  his  brother  Charles, 
selected  the  music  to  be  sung  in  his  societies;  and  it 
was  in  no  small  degree  owing  to  the  ardent  and  well- 
instructed  love  of  these  two  men  for  music,  that  the 
Methodist  movement  carried  a  wave  of  sacred  song  all 
over  England.  The  London  home  of  Charles  Wesley 
was  for  twenty  years  a  centre  of  musical  culture.  His 
wife  was  an  accomplished  musician  with  a  trained  and 
sympathetic  voice ;   his  two  sons,  Charles  and  Samuel, 

^  1758,  Thursday,  Aug.  17.  "I  went  to  the  Cathedral  to  hear  Mr. 
Handel's  '  Messiah.'  I  doubt  if  that  congregation  was  ever  so  serious 
at  a  sermon  as  they  were  during  this  performance.  In  many  parts, 
especially  several  of  the  chorusses,  it  exceeded  ray  expectation." 

2  Tyerman,  II,  499. 


2  20  JOHN  WESLEY 

Vv'ere  among  the  most  distinguished  organists  of  their 
time.  The  elder,  Charles,  was  an  especial  favorite  of 
George  III ;  the  younger,  Samuel,  won  some  eminence 
as  a  composer,  and  had  almost  equal  mastery  of  the 
organ,  harpsichord,  and  violin;  while  his  son  Samuel 
Sebastian,  the  well-known  organist  of  Gloucester 
Cathedral,  carried  the  musical  traditions  of  the  Wesley 
family  quite  down  to  the  end  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

From  all  more  questionable  forms  of  popular  amuse- 
ment, doubtless  most  Methodists  scrupulously  ab- 
stained; but  because  such  amusements  were  disap- 
proved by  Wesley  rather  than  absolutely  forbidden. 
On  doubtful  matters,  his  method  was  not  to  prescribe 
or  to  prohibit,  but  to  leave  the  decision  of  such  cases 
where  it  belongs,  with  the  individual  conscience.  In 
an  admirable  sermon  on  amusements,  characteris- 
tically entitled,  "The  Better  Way,"  after  admitting 
that  something  might  be  said  for  the  drama,  —  he  was 
a  lover  of  dramatic  literature  in  its  better  forms  and 
advised  his  preachers  to  read  plays  that  they  might 
cultivate  a  natural  manner  of  speech,  —  he  declares 
that,  for  himself,  he  could  not  go  to  the  theatre  nor 
play  at  cards;  but  he  adds:  "Possibly  others  can;  I 
am  not  obliged  to  pass  any  sentence  on  them  that  are 
otherwise  minded.  I  leave  them  to  their  own  Master; 
to  Him  let  them  stand  or  fall."  His  successors  have 
not  always  been  so  wise» 

Supreme  devotion  to  one  great  purpose  alm.ost  of 
necessity  implies  some  withdrawal  of  attention  from 
less  important  matters.  The  successful  reformer  is 
often  chargeable  with  some  lack  of  sympathy  or  propor- 
tion in  his  views  of  life.  But  no  impartial  student  of 
Wesley's  career  will  assert  that  the  type  of  religious 


THE  YEARS   OF   SUCCESS  221 

life  he  exemplified  himself  and  enjoined  upon  others 
was  ignorant  or  illiberal;  no  one  can  deny  that  the 
Methodist  movement,  on  the  whole,  tended  powerfully 
to  stimulate  the  intellect  and  elevate  the  taste,  as  well 
as  to  promote  the  piety,  of  the  great  mass  of  the  Eng- 
lish people. 

A  man  with  Wesley's  wide  and  accurate  knowledge 
of  social  conditions  all  over  the  United  Kingdom 
could  not  fail  to  be  interested  in  political  matters. 
Throughout  his  career  he  kept  a  watchful  eye  upon  the 
measures  of  government,  and  estimated  carefully  their 
influence,  both  at  home  and  in  the  colonies.  Journey- 
ing constantly  from  one  end  of  England  to  the  other, 
with  frequent  visits  to  Scotland  and  Wales,  crossing 
the  channel  to  Ireland,  as  he  did,  about  fifty  times, 
meeting  in  intimate  relations  thousands  of  devoted 
followers,  and  receiving  the  confidence  accorded  only 
to  a  trusted  religious  leader,  he  enjoyed  better  oppor- 
tunity than  any  other  man  in  the  realm  to  observe  the 
state  of  public  opinion  among  the  great  body  of  the 
English  people.  And  few  men  could  have  used  that 
opportunity  better.  For  the  first  thirty  years  of  his 
public  life,  it  is  true,  he  did  not  think  it  needful  or 
wise  to  declare  allegiance  to  either  party,  or  to  take 
any  share  in  political  controversy.  By  nature  and  by 
education  he  was  a  Tory.  The  first  principle  of  his 
political  creed  was  loyalty  to  his  king  and  his  Church ; 
though,  like  his  father,  he  found  his  Toryism  no  bar 
to  a  hearty  support  of  the  House  of  Hanover.  At 
the  time  of  the  rising  of  '45,  he  stoutly  avowed  that  he 
loved  and  honored  his  Majesty,  George  Second,  "no 
less  than  his  own  father  " ;  and  when  that  insignificant 


222  JOHN  WESLEY 

monarch  died,  the  loyal  Wesley  wrote  in  his  Journal, 
"When  will  England  have  a  better  prince  ! "  He  always 
deprecated  the  rancor  of  parties,  and  enjoined  upon 
Methodists  the  virtues  of  obedience  and  quiet.  It  was 
natural,  therefore,  that  he  should  view  with  alarm  the 
restlessness  and  the  growing  distrust  of  the  influence  of 
the  Crown  which  spread  through  England  during  the 
early  years  of  the  reign  of  George  III.  He  did  not,  or 
would  not,  see  that  the  young  monarch  by  his  system 
of  what  Burke  called  ''the  double  cabinet"  and  his 
efforts  to  form  a  subsidized  court  party,  was  striving 
to  get  all  the  reins  of  power  into  his  own  hands  and 
practically  to  nullify  constitutional  government.  The 
great  middle  class,  to  which  most  Methodists  belonged, 
Wesley  saw,  with  special  concern,  were  being  tainted 
with  what  he  thought  false  notions  of  liberty.  He 
recognized  the  unwisdom  of  excluding  this  growing 
class  so  entirely  from  any  participation  in  the  govern- 
ment, and  he  was  one  of  the  early  advocates  of  some 
scheme  for  the  reform  of  parliamentary  representation. 
But  he  feared  the  result  of  crude  and  revolutionary 
ideas  as  to  personal  liberty  and  the  warrant  of  civil 
government.  Such  notions  were  already  filtering  down 
through  the  mass  of  the  English  people,  fomenting,  so 
Wesley  thought,  a  dangerous  discontent  with  all  consti- 
tuted authority.  The  Wesleyan  movement  had  been 
more  successful  in  the  towns  than  in  the  rural  districts ; 
and  it  was  in  the  towns  that  this  restlessness  was 
most  pronounced,  —  nowhere  more  turbulent  and  ag- 
gressive than  in  the  three  great  Methodist  centres, 
London,  Bristol,  and  Newcastle. 

Wesley,  however,  wrote  nothing  upon  political  sub- 
jects until   1768.     Then,  in  the  heats  of  the  Wilkes 


THE  YEARS   OF   SUCCESS  223 

agitation,  he  could  keep  silence  no  longer.  John 
Wilkes,  it  will  be  remembered,  had  been  condemned 
for  seditious  libel  four  years  before,  expelled  from  the 
Commons,  and  outlawed.  In  February  of  1768,  he 
returned  from  France,  and  in  the  following  April 
stood  for  election  to  Parliament  from  Middlesex,  and 
was  elected  by  a  large  majority.  A  few  weeks  later, 
his  sentence  of  outlawry  was  pronounced  illegal  on  a 
technicality;  but  the  verdict  of  blasphemy  and  sedi- 
tious libel  still  rested  on  him,  and  in  June  he  was 
sentenced  to  imprisonment  for  twenty-two  months. 
Meantime,  popular  excitement  in  London  was  at  fever 
pitch.  It  was  assumed  that  Wilkes  would  be  released 
from  his  imprisonment  to  take  his  seat  in  the  Commons ; 
and  when  Parliament  met,  in  May,  an  immense  throng 
surrounded  his  prison  in  St.  George's  Fields,  waiting  to 
escort  their  hero  in  triumph  to  Westminster.  But  a 
detachment  of  the  Guards  had  been  sent  to  preserve 
order ;  and  without  any  real  provocation,  they  fired  on 
the  crowd,  killing  five  or  six,  and  rousing  the  passions 
of  the  mob  to  fury.  The  king  had  determined  that 
Wilkes  should  not  be  seated;  but  in  the  face  of  this 
storm  of  popular  indignation,  the  Commons  hesitated 
at  taking  the  dangerous  step  of  expelling  a  member 
legally  elected.  They  temporized  for  some  time,  and 
finally  postponed  their  decision  till  the  winter  session. 
In  the  following  February,  after  long  and  violent 
discussion,  Wilkes  was  expelled.  Twelve  days  later 
he  was  reelected,  and  the  following  day,  February 
17,  was  declared  incapable  of  sitting.  Protesting 
against  this  violation  of  their  rights  and  the  right  of 
Wilkes,  the  Middlesex  electors  again  put  him  forward 
as  a  candidate,  and  again  elected  him,  this  time  by  an 


224  JOHN  WESLEY 

enormous  majority.  The  Commons  at  once  declared 
the  election  void,  and  seated  the  rival  candidate  who 
had  received  but  a  handful  of  votes. 

Wilkes  lost  his  seat,  but  he  became  the  idol  of  the 
hour,  the  representative  and  champion  of  popular 
rights.  Franklin,  who  was  in  England  at  the  time,  de- 
clared that  if  George  III  had  had  a  bad  private  char- 
acter and  John  Wilkes  a  good  one,  the  latter  might 
have  turned  the  former  out  of  his  kingdom.  But 
Wilkes  had  a  notoriously  bad  character.  A  gamester, 
a  profligate,  and  a  rake,  his  private  life  was  an  example 
of  all  those  vices  that  most  shock  common  decency.  In 
conversation,  indeed,  he  sometimes  showed  a  brilliancy 
that,  on  one  famous  occasion,  disarmed  the  prejudice 
even  of  so  stout  an  opponent  as  Samuel  Johnson ;  but  his 
public  utterances  were  usually  in  the  rancorous  tone  of 
the  demagogue,  and  he  had  little  real  statesmanlike 
ability.  Had  he  been  given  his  seat  in  the  Commons, 
he  would  probably  soon  have  sunk  into  deserved 
obscurity;  the  action  of  the  government  pushed  him 
at  once  into  prominence  as  the  champion  and  martyr 
of  popular  right.  For  it  was  justly  urged  that  his  char- 
acter as  a  man  could  not  annul  his  claim  to  the  seat  to 
which  his  constituents  had  duly  elected  him.  Moreover, 
it  was  evidently  not  for  his  morals  that  the  king  and  the 
court  party  were  determined  to  punish  him,  but  for 
his  politics.  Everybody  knew  that  writings  quite  as 
scandalous  as  his,  libels  quite  as  violent,  had  for  years 
been  allowed  to  pass  unnoticed ;  and  if  Wilkes  had  been 
one  of  the  "king's  friends,"  he  might  have  published 
what  he  pleased  without  calling  down  upon  himself 
anything  worse  than  pious  regrets  or  expostulations. 
Thus  a  curious  irony  of  circumstance  forced  some  of 


THE  YEARS   OF  SUCCESS  225 

the  purest  and  wisest  English  statesmen  to  support  a 
notorious  rake  and  debauchee,  and  made  his  name, 
for  some  years,  the  symbol  of  civil  liberty  on  both 
sides  the  Atlantic. 

It  was  in  the  summer  of  1768,  while  the  decision  of 
Wilkes's  case  was  pending  in  the  Commons,  that  Wesley 
published    the  first    edition    of    his    pamphlet,    "Free 
Thoughts  on  Public  Affairs";    the  enlarged  and  re- 
vised form  found  in  his  collected  works  was  issued  in 
1770.     Wesley    might    have    had    special    reason    for 
antipathy  to  Wilkes ;  the  wife  of  Wilkes,  who  seems  to 
have  borne  the  brutal  treatment  of  her  husband  with 
exemplary  patience,  was  a  wealthy  Methodist,  and  a 
member  of  one  of  Wesley's  London  Societies.     But,  in 
fact,  Wesley  has  comparatively  little  to  say  on  the  Wilkes 
case.     Admitting  that  he  cannot  approve  the  violent 
measures  taken  on  either  side  relative  to  the  Middlesex 
election,  he  defends  the  exclusion  of  Wilkes  in  a  clear 
and   succinct   argument,   and   quotes  at   considerable 
length  from  the  famous  speech  of  Mansfield  in  the 
lords  to  support  his  position.     But  it  is  evident  that 
he  is  chiefly  concerned  over  the  alarming  spread  of  dis- 
loyalty to  the  person  and  authority  of  the  Crown.    The 
paper  is  really  an  apology  for  the  character  and  conduct 
of  George  III.     As  was  to  be  expected,  it  was  not  very 
satisfactory.     At    almost    the    same    moment,  another 
pamphlet,  dealing  with  the  same  questions,  and  under 
a  similar  title,  appeared  from  the  pen  of  one  of  the 
greatest  of  English  statesmen.     Edmund  Burke  pub- 
lished his  ''Thoughts  on  the  Causes  of  the  Present 
Discontents"  within  a  few  weeks  of  the  issue  of  the 
second  edition  of  Wesley's  ''Free  Thoughts."     Burke, 
too,  saw  with  genuine  alarm,  the  universal  temper  of 

Q 


226  JOHN  WESLEY 

disaffection,  the  decay  of  obedience,  the  loss  of  respect 
for  rank  and  oJSice,  for  what,  in  one  of  his  own  fine 
phrases,  he  calls  "all  the  solemn  plausibilities  of  the 
world."  But  with  the  insight  of  the  statesman  Burke 
traces  these  evils  to  their  source  in  the  corrupt  and 
arbitrary  system  of  personal  government  to  which 
George  III  had  committed  himself.  Wesley,  on  the 
other  hand,  cannot  or  will  not  see  anything  to  condemn  in 
the  character  or  the  policy  of  the  king.  He  contents 
himself  with  insisting  that  George  is  an  intelligent, 
honest,  and  pious  man.  As  to  the  popular  agitation 
against  him,  it  is  so  unaccountable  that  he  is  forced  to 
conclude,  ''the  first  and  principal  spring  of  the  whole 
commotion  is  French  gold ! "  Such  a  charge  as  this 
was  not  likely  to  soothe  the  passions  of  any  overardent 
friends  of  civil  liberty.  Nor  could  they  be  expected 
to  think  Wesley's  defence  of  the  king  of  any  value. 
They  were  protesting  against  the  arbitrary  and  un- 
constitutional measures  of  the  Crown ;  they  were  told 
that  their  monarch  was  a  good  man,  who,  unlike  Mr. 
Wilkes,  read  his  Bible,  feared  his  God,  and  loved  his 
wife. 

Two  years  later,  the  continued  and  increasing  op- 
position to  the  Crown,  heightened  by  the  scathing  in- 
vectives of  the  Junius  Letters,  called  out  from  Wesley 
another  pamphlet,  entitled  "Thoughts  upon  Liberty." 
In  this  he  inveighs,  with  greater  warmth  than  in  his 
former  paper,  against  the  universal  cry  for  larger 
liberty.  Religious  liberty,  he  claims,  Englishmen  al- 
ready enjoy  in  greater  measure  than  any  other  people 
in  the  world.  Civil  liberty  he  defines  as  "the  liberty 
to  enjoy  our  lives  and  fortunes  in  our  own  way  —  to 
use  our  property,  whatever  is  legally  our  own,  according 


THE  YEARS   OF  SUCCESS  227 

to  our  own  choice,"  and  who,  he  cries,  is  robbed  of 
this  liberty?  "Certainly  I  am  not.  I  pray  do  not 
face  me  down  that  I  am.  Do  not  argue  me  out  of  my 
senses."  Of  course,  the  Whig  could  reply  that  the 
liberty  which  leaves  my  property  and  my  person  in  the 
control  of  a  government  that  will  not  seat  the  repre- 
sentative I  have  elected,  or,  having  seated  him,  manages 
by  corrupt  influence  to  silence  his  voice  and  stifle  his 
vote,  is  not  civil  liberty  at  all.  The  truth  is,  Wesley's 
ingrained  conservatism  would  not  let  him  see  the  real 
question  at  issue.  Justly  shocked  by  the  lawlessness 
and  violence  on  the  surface  of  the  popular  movement, 
he  failed  to  recognize  the  underlying  principles  which 
gave  that  movement  significance.  The  crowd  who 
broke  the  windows  of  the  ministers,  and  bawled  for 
liberty,  as  he  saw,  really  meant  license.  The  insolent 
Letters  of  Junius  tended  to  destroy  all  reverence  for 
authority,  while  Wilkes  was  certainly  a  stained  and 
sorry  champion  of  any  good  cause.  Yet,  though  little 
honored  by  many  of  its  loudest  advocates,  the  founda- 
tion principles  of  representative  government  were  really 
at  stake,  and  the  ultimate  outcome  of  all  the  agitation 
was  the  greater  security  of  life  and  liberty  the  world 
round.  On  the  other  hand,  we  should  never  overlook 
the  inestimable  services  rendered  to  society  in  times  of 
change  by  the  conservative,  who,  like  Wesley,  protests 
against  the  hasty  generalizations,  the  violent  measures, 
the  irrational  hatred  of  convention,  into  which  the 
popular  movement  is  always  liable  to  run.  If  no  such 
cataclysm  as  the  French  Revolution  was  possible  in 
England  after  1760,  it  was  largely  because  of  the  senti- 
ment of  respect  for  established  order  which  such  teach- 
ing as  Wesley's  inculcated. 


228  JOHN  WESLEY 

But  Wesley's  most  famous  political  pamphlet  was 
called  out,  two  years  later,  by  the  troubles  in  America. 
He  had  followed  with  close  attention  the  course  of 
affairs  in  the  colonies,  political  as  well  as  religious, 
ever  since  his  early  sojourn  in  Georgia.  Deeply  in- 
terested in  the  work  of  Whitefield  in  America,  he  felt 
it  desirable  to  provide  there  some  system  of  societies 
and  itinerant  preachers  like  that  which  had  grown  up 
in  England.  As  early  as  1769,  his  Conference  sent 
ministers  to  New  York  and  Philadelphia.  Wesley 
himself,  in  the  years  immediately  following  1770,  had 
serious  thoughts  of  visiting  America,  and  doubtless 
would  have  done  so,  had  he  felt  at  liberty  to  leave  the 
work  in  England  for  so  long  an  absence.  Methodist 
societies  after  the  Wesleyan  pattern  were  springing 
up  in  various  parts  of  the  colonies;  a  Conference  of 
these  societies  held  in  Philadelphia,  in  1774,  reported 
2204  members  and  seven  itinerant  preachers. 

It  was  inevitable,  therefore,  that  Wesley  should  view 
with  grave  concern  the  increasing  dissatisfaction  in 
America.  At  first,  his  sympathies  seem  to  have  been 
largely  with  the  colonists  in  their  grievances  against 
the  mother  country.  Little  as  he  might  share  the 
extreme  views  as  to  the  nature  of  civil  liberty  that  had 
been  so  loudly  proclaimed  in  England  and  were  now 
echoed  as  loudly  in  America,  he  was  ready  to  admit 
that  the  treatment  of  the  colonies  had  often  been  very 
unwise.  In  his  "Free  Thoughts  on  the  State  of  Public 
Affairs,"  he  had  said  so  explicitly:  "I  do  not  defend 
the  measures  which  have  been  taken  with  regard  to 
America;  I  doubt  whether  any  man  can  defend  them 
either  on  the  foot  of  law,  equity,  or  prudence."  He 
claimed  only  that  these  obnoxious  measures  had  been 


THE  YEARS   OF  SUCCESS  229 

the  work  of  the  Granville  ministry,  and  that  the  king 
and  his  present  government  should  not  be  held  re- 
sponsible for  them.  Four  years  later,  as  the  flame  of 
war  was  bursting  out,  —  just  forty-eight  hours  before 
the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  —  he  wrote  a  very  striking 
letter  to  the  premier,  Lord  North. ^  He  will  not  argue 
the  question  of  the  American  grievances,  though  he 
"cannot  avoid  thinking,  if  I  think  at  all,  that  an  ag- 
grieved people  asked  for  nothing  more  than  their  legal 
rights,  and  that  in  the  most  modest  and  inoffensive 
manner  the  nature  of  the  thing  would  allow."  But, 
waiving  all  questions  of  right  in  the  case,  he  expostulates 
with  the  minister  against  the  folly  of  attempting  vio- 
lent measures  against  America.  With  almost  prophetic 
foresight,  he  warns  Lord  North  that  not  twenty  thou- 
sand troops,  nor  treble  that  number,  fighting  half- 
heartedly, three  thousand  miles  away  from  home  and 
supplies,  can  ever  hope  to  conquer  a  nation  of  enthu- 
siasts for  liberty,  who  think,  whether  they  be  right  or 
wrong,  that  they  are  contending  for  their  wives,  their 
children,  and  their  homes.  He  has  information  directly 
from  his  preachers,  he  tells  the  premier,  that  these 
colonists  are  not  peaceful  agriculturists  ready  to  run  at 
the  sight  of  a  redcoat  or  the  sound  of  a  musket,  but 
rather  hardy  frontiersmen  with  training  and  discipline 
that  fits  them  for  war,  and  that  they  are  "terribly 
united."  "For  God's  sake,"  he  cries  in  closing,  "for 
the  sake  of  the  king,  of  the  Nation,  of  your  lovely 
family,  remember  Rehoboam !  Remember  Philip  the 
Second!    Remember  King  Charles  the  First!" 

This  was  Wesley's  position  at  the  middle  of  June, 
1775.    And  as  late  as  the  end  of  October,  writing  to 

^  Tyerman,  III,  197. 


230  JOHN  WESLEY 

one  of  his  American  preachers/  he  declares  that  if  he 
have  an  interview  with  a  certain  great  man,  —  un- 
doubtedly either  Lord  North  or  Lord  Dartmouth, — 
he  will  urge  upon  him  that  ''love  and  tender  measures 
will  do  far  more  for  America  than  violence."  Yet  in 
the  late  summer  of  that  same  year,  he  published  that 
famous  pamphlet  which  seems  to  contradict  all  his 
previous  utterances  on  American  affairs.  The  "Calm 
Address  to  our  American  Colonies"  is  a  brief  tract  of 
only  ten  pages,  in  defence  of  the  English  right  to  tax 
the  colonies  without  granting  them  representation. 
The  colonists,  Wesley  argues,  have  all  the  rights  en- 
joyed by  British  subjects  at  home,  save  such  as  they 
have  voluntarily  surrendered  by  leaving  England.  As 
to  the  claim  that  the  right  of  representation  is  implied 
in  that  of  taxation,  that,  he  urges,  has  never  been 
recognized  in  England.  Most  of  the  ancestors  of  the 
colonists,  before  they  left  England,  like  four-fifths  of 
the  English  people,  never  had  any  vote  for  a  repre- 
sentative in  Parliament ;  yet  they  were  all  taxed.  They 
certainly  acquired  by  emigration  no  rights  and  no  ex- 
emptions which  they  did  not  enjoy  at  home.  On  the 
contrary,  all  precedents  show  that  England  has  always 
reserved  the  right  to  tax  her  colonists,  and  has  often 
exercised  it.  The  pamphlet  was  hardly  likely  to  con- 
vince those  to  whom  it  was  addressed ;  but  it  was  a  terse 
and  vigorous  putting  of  the  main  arguments  by  which 
the  ministry  justified  their  American  policy.  And  it 
was,  as  the  title  implied,  calm  and  conciliatory  in  tone; 
Wesley  claimed  with  truth  that  there  was  not  a  sharp 
or  bitter  word  in  it. 

But  Wesley's   sudden  and   apparently  inexplicable 

1  Letter  to  John  Rankin,  Works,  XII,  302. 


THE  YEARS   OF  SUCCESS  231 

change  of  attitude  on  American  affairs  naturally  pro- 
voked surprise  and  opposition.  Before  his  pamphlet 
had  been  out  a  month  there  were  many  people,  he 
said,  who  would  be  glad  to  burn  it  and  him  together. 
It  is  possible,  indeed,  to  make  some  defence  of  Wesley's 
consistency.  It  may  be  said  that,  on  the  one  hand,  he 
had  for  years  been  denouncing  the  new  doctrines  of 
liberty,  whether  proclaimed  by  Whigs  in  England  or  by 
Whigs  in  America;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  he  had  been 
convinced  that  the  measures  of  the  Granville  ministry 
had  been  unwise,  and  that  the  decision  of  the  North 
ministry  to  resort  to  force  was  worse  than  unwise. 
He  could  not  heartily  defend  either  the  government  for 
enforcing  its  rights  or  the  colonists  for  resisting  them. 
In  similar  circumstances,  Christian  men  have  often 
solemnly  deprecated  the  undue  haste  of  their  country 
to  enforce,  by  the  cruel  penalty  of  war,  claims  which, 
in  the  abstract,  they  have  admitted  to  be  just. 

But  while  it  is  possible  thus  to  make  a  defence  of 
Wesley's  consistency,  he  himself  did  not  try  to  make  it. 
He  admitted  at  once  that  the  "Calm  Address"  was  at 
variance  with  his  previous  opinions  on  the  American 
question.  His  own  explanation  of  the  change  was 
very  simple;  he  had  read  Samuel  Johnson's  "Taxa- 
tion no  Tyranny."  As  he  put  it,  in  the  preface  to  the 
second  edition  of  his  pamphlet,  "As  soon  as  I  received  j 
new  light  myself,  I  judged  it  my  duty  to  impart  it  to) 
others."  Accordingly,  he  extracted  all  the  argument 
from  Johnson's  tract,  simplified  its  ponderous  phrase, 
omitted  all  its  abuse,  and  printed  it  thus  abridged  and 
altered  as  his  own.  Whether  he  first  obtained  the 
great  man's  permission  before  thus  popularizing  his 
pamphlet,  is  not  known;    but,  in  any  case,  Johnson 


232  JOHN  WESLEY 

was  so  far  from  making  any  complaint,  that  he  de- 
clared himself  flattered  by  so  able  a  convert,  and  likened 
himself  to  the  philosopher  who  was  content  to  have  all 
his  audience  leave  him  if  only  Plato  stayed.  And,  in 
fact,  if  Johnson  cared  more  for  his  cause  than  his 
fame,  he  might  well  be  glad  of  such  an  auxiliary; 
for  Wesley's  little  tract  probably  reached  a  hundred 
readers  where  Johnson's  labored  and  magisterial  dis- 
cussion reached  one.  Moreover,  while  neither  pam- 
phlet had  any  effect  in  America,  Wesley's  readers  in 
England  were  mostly  of  just  that  great  unrepresented 
middle  class  whose  growing  discontent  with  the  govern- 
ment it  was  most  needful,  at  that  time,  to  allay.  Before 
it  had  been  issued  three  months,  over  fifty  thousand 
copies  had  been  sold,  and  its  effect,  Wesley  declared, 
exceeded  his  most  sanguine  hopes. 

But  while  the  ''Calm  Address"  was  the  most  effective 
of  Wesley's  political  pamphlets,  it  is  probable  that  his 
own  mixed  and  changing  feelings  with  reference  to  the 
American  war  may  be  seen  best  in  two  other  papers 
written  in  the  course  of  the  next  two  years.  The 
''Seasonable  Address  to  the  Inhabitants  of  Great 
Britain,"  issued  early  in  1776,  was  prompted  by  his 
horror  at  the  fratricidal  strife  in  America  and  the 
virulent  passions  it  excited  at  home.  The  justice  of 
the  quarrel  he  will  not  discuss.  The  question  at  issue, 
in  any  case,  he  says,  is  a  purely  constitutional  one, 
difficult  of  decision,  and  calling  for  calm  and  reasoned 
consideration.  Yet  over  this  delicate  question,  country- 
men, children  of  the  same  parents,  are  arrayed  in  arms 
against  each  other,  "murdering  each  other  with  all 
possible  speed"  to  determine  which  is  in  the  right  in  a 
dispute  over  the  method  of  taxation !    And  at  home  in 


THE  YEARS   OF   SUCCESS  233 

England,  men  of  all  parties,  instead  of  seeking  the 
things  that  make  for  peace,  are  fomenting  the  quarrel 
by  angry  discussion  of  matters  they  cannot  understand. 
The  paper  is  a  plea  for  a  moderate,  conciliatory  temper, 
and  for  humility  and  penitence  in  view  of  the  sins  of 
the  nation. 

But  in  the  pamphlet  of  the  next  year,  "A  Calm  Ad- 
dress to  the  Inhabitants  of  England,"  issued  in  Feb- 
ruary, 1777,  Wesley's  temper  has  changed.  Since  his 
previous  writing  the  Americans  had  thrown  off  alle- 
giance to  the  mother  country,  and  declared  their  inde- 
pendence. Plainly,  conciliation  or  compromise  was  no 
longer  possible.  The  struggle  must  go  on  till  it  end  in 
victory  for  one  party  or  the  other.  In  these  circum- 
stances, Wesley  finds  no  attitude  possible  to  a  loyal 
Englishman  but  steady  support  of  the  government. 
The  factious  Englishmen  who  defend  the  cause  of 
rebellion,  and,  if  they  do  not  plead  openly  for  the 
Americans,  extenuate  their  crimes  and  speak  of  them 
with  tenderness,  should  now  remember  their  duty 
not  only  to  fear  God  but  to  honor  the  king.  If  there 
be  any  such  disloyal  subjects  among  the  people  called 
Methodists,  Wesley  avers  —  with  great  plainness  of 
speech  —  that  he  would  no  more  continue  in  fellow- 
ship with  them  than  with  common  swearers,  drunkards, 
thieves,  or  whoremongers.  As  for  the  colonists,  he 
now  thinks  that  independence  has  from  the  first  been 
their  object.  They  have  set  up  a  government  founded 
on  a  false  idea  of  liberty;  but  in  fact  no  freedom  of 
action  or  of  speech  is  allowed  among  them.  Their 
military  success  in  the  first  two  years  of  the  war  was 
alarming ;  but  since  King  George  proclaimed  a  general 
fast,  the  tide  has  turned.     General  Howe  has  occupied 


234  JOHN  WESLEY 

Long  Island  and  New  York,  and  the  rebel  cause  grows 
desperate. 

The  whole  pamphlet  is  as  stout  a  partisan  docu- 
ment as  Lord  North  could  desire.  Wesley  had  evi- 
dently become  convinced  that  an  energetic  prosecu- 
tion of  the  war  was  now  the  shortest  path  to  peace. 
Always  a  stanch  defender  of  the  monarchy,  he  never 
had  any  sympathy  with  the  opposition  of  Burke  and 
Fox,  and  now  deemed  their  attitude  little  short  of 
treasonable.  It  is  possible,  too,  that  the  vicious  at- 
tacks made  upon  him  for  his  "Calm  Address"  to  the 
colonists  —  though  he  would  not  condescend  to 
answer  them  —  may  have  embittered  somewhat  the 
tone  of  this  paper.  He  had  been  branded  as  a  turn- 
coat, a  Jesuit,  a  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing,  a  sycophant, 
a  hypocrite  with  one  eye  on  heaven  and  the  other  on 
a  pension,  a  priest  who  ought  to  be  presented  not  with 
lawn  sleeves  but  with  a  hempen  collar.  And  some 
of  the  worst  of  these  charges  came  from  the  Calvin- 
istic  Methodists,  most  of  whom  seem  to  have  leaned 
toward  the  American  side  in  the  controversy.  Their 
organ,  the  Gospel  Magazine,  poured  out  a  torrent  of 
abuse,  and  Toplady,  its  editor,  fairly  outdid  himself 
in  a  scurrilous  pamphlet  which  he  called  ''An  Old 
Fox  Tarred  and  Feathered."  Always  insisting  that 
it  was  the  first  duty  of  a  good  Methodist  to  be  a  good 
citizen,  it  is  not  surprising  that  Wesley  resented  keenly 
these  charges  of  time-serving  and  hypocrisy  from 
Methodists  who,  as  he  said,  "hated  the  king  and  his 
ministers  only  less  than  they  hated  an  Arminian." 

The  verdict  of  the  impartial  historian  must  be  that, 
throughout  the  American  controversy,  Wesley  was 
on  the  wrong  side,  and  lent  his  influence  to  the  oppo- 


THE  YEARS   OF  SUCCESS  235 

nents  of  constitutional  liberty  rather  than  to  its  friends. 
But  it  would  be  absurd  to  impute  his  conduct  to  selfish 
motives.  And  if  his  early  sympathies  with  the  colo- 
nists seem  to  have  been  too  easily  withdrawn  by  John- 
son's pamphlet,  we  must  remember  that  he  was  strongly 
predisposed  to  the  conservative  side  not  only  by  his 
inherited  temper  of  loyalty  to  the  Crown,  but  by  his 
abhorrence  for  the  excesses  and  license  that  during 
the  previous  ten  years  had  attended  the  liberal  party 
in  England.  Perhaps,  indeed,  he  was  not  quite  so 
much  influenced  by  Johnson  as  he  himself  thought 
he  was.  He  was  by  native  disposition  the  friend  of 
order  rather  than  of  freedom,  and  always  looked  with 
suspicion  upon  the  clamor  for  the  extension  of  popu- 
lar rights.  In  his  opinion,  law,  virtue,  and  religion 
had  good  reason  to  dread  that  sort  of  liberty  with 
which  was  always  linked  the  name  of  John  Wilkes. 
Yet  this  was  the  liberty  the  Americans  had  now  en- 
throned. Whatever  he  may  have  thought  of  some 
of  their  grievances  in  1774,  the  course  of  events  in 
America  through  the  next  two  years  convinced  him 
that  the  revolutionary  temper  dominant  there  was 
inconsistent  with  a  well-ordered,  quiet,  religious  state. 
Fortunately,  he  lived  long  enough  to  see  his  mistake. 
He  accepted  in  good  faith  the  result  of  the  struggle, 
and  when  it  was  over,  resumed  at  once  the  most  cor- 
dial relations  with  the  Methodists  of  the  new  republic, 
and  soon  granted  to  them  a  measure  of  ecclesiastical 
self-government  which  he  was  never  quite  ready  to 
accord  to  his  societies  in  England. 

The  needs  of  the  Methodists  in  America  after  the 
close  of  the  Revolution  were  only  one  of  the  causes 


236  JOHN  WESLEY 

which  forced  the  attention  of  Wesley,  as  he  drew  near 
the  close  of  life,  upon  the  question  —  what  was  to  be- 
come of  Methodism  after  he  was  gone.  Thus  far,  as 
we  have  seen,  the  whole  elaborate  system  of  organiza- 
tion and  government  which  had  grown  up  through 
forty  years  centred  in  Wesley  himself.  The  reins  of 
authority  were  all  in  his  hands.  The  societies  through 
their  leaders  and  pastors  were  responsible  to  him. 
The  preachers  were  appointed  and  approved  by  him; 
they  met  each  year  for  "Conference"  with  him.  The 
Methodist  chapels,  or  preaching  houses,  of  which  by 
1784  there  were  in  the  United  Kingdom  as  many  as 
359,  were  held,  under  a  form  he  had  devised,  by  local 
trustees  "for  the  use  of  John  Wesley  and  such  other 
persons  as  he  might  appoint  to  preach  therein." 
After  his  death,  this  right  to  appoint  preachers  was 
to  vest  in  his  brother  Charles,  or  in  the  case  of  the 
death  of  both  brothers,  in  William  Grimshaw,  should 
he  survive  them.  After  the  death  of  all  three  of  these 
clergymen,  the  chapels  were  to  be  held  "for  the  sole 
use  of  such  persons  as  might  be  appointed  by  the 
yearly  Conference  of  the  people  called  Methodists." 
But  this  Conference  had  no  legal  status,  being  merely 
a  private  meeting  called  by  Wesley;  it  was  without 
power  to  acquire  or  to  hold  property,  and  at  the  death 
of  Wesley  might  cease  to  exist  altogether.  Indeed, 
it  seemed  possible  that  at  the  death  of  its  founder  the 
whole  structure  of  Methodism  might  drop  to  pieces. 
It  was  plainly  necessary  that  some  measures  should 
be  taken  to  hold  the  societies  together  under  a  per- 
manent organization  and  to  secure  the  ownership 
and  control  of  Methodist  property,  when  the  personal 
government  of  Wesley  should  be  terminated  by  his 


THE  YEARS   OF   SUCCESS  237 

death.  Wesley  therefore  drew  up  a  document  nam- 
ing one  hundred  of  his  preachers  as  permanent  mem- 
bers of  the  Conference  with  authority  to  fill  vacancies 
in  their  body,  and  defining  clearly  their  powers  and 
duties.  This  "Deed  of  Declaration"  was  enrolled 
in  the  Court  of  Chancery,  and  the  "Conference"  con- 
stituted was  thus  given  a  permanent  legal  existence. 
It  was  thenceforth  impossible  for  the  property  of  the 
societies  to  revert  to  private  use,  or  for  the  societies 
themselves  to  fall  apart  and  become  mere  separate 
congregations.  By  this  one  step,  Methodism  was 
guaranteed  a  perpetual  organization  and  polity. 

The  condition  of  the  Methodist  societies  in  America 
made  Wesley  deem  it  necessary  to  take  another  step 
which  was  by  far  the  most  serious  departure  from 
ecclesiastical  order  he  had  yet  ventured.  When  the 
Revolution  began,  there  were  in  the  colonies  six 
preachers  sent  by  Wesley  from  England;  but  when 
the  rupture  with  the  mother  country  was  complete 
and  the  colonies  declared  their  independence,  all  but 
one  of  these  preachers  felt  it  their  duty  to  return 
to  England.  Francis  Asbury  alone  remained.  No 
more  heroic  figure  is  to  be  found  in  early  American 
history  than  this  plain  Methodist  preacher.  He 
came  of  hardy  stock.  His  father  was  an  intelligent 
farmer  and  gardener  in  Handsworth,  Staffordshire; 
his  mother  was  a  woman  of  unusual  depth  and  sen- 
sitiveness of  nature,  with  an  almost  passionate  love 
for  books  and  reading.  Under  the  training  of  such 
parents,  young  Asbury  grew  up  a  clean,  earnest  lad, 
and  in  his  early  teens,  influenced  especially  by  a  min- 
ister —  not  a  Methodist  —  who  was  staying  at  his 
father's  house,  he  began  a  distinctively  religious  life. 


238  JOHN  WESLEY 

Handsworth  is  not  far  from  Wednesbury,  where,  it 
will  be  remembered,  the  Methodists  had  suffered 
such  violent  persecution.  Asbury  naturally  asked  his 
mother  who  and  what  sort  of  people  these  Methodists 
were,  and  learning  from  the  good  woman  that  they 
were  pious  and  peaceable  folk,  he  went  to  Wednesbury 
to  see  them.  Here  he  found,  to  his  surprise,  a  kind 
of  preaching  and  a  type  of  religious  experience  dif- 
ferent from  anything  he  had  before  known.  These 
devout,  cheerful  Methodists  seemed  to  him  to  em- 
body the  ideal  Christian  character.  He  came  home 
to  hold  meetings  like  theirs  in  his  own  village  and, 
when  driven  from  other  places,  in  his  father's  house. 
When  he  was  eighteen  he  began  to  preach,  and  four 
years  later  was  enrolled  as  one  of  Wesley's  itinerants. 
Deeply  religious,  yet  without  a  trace  of  fanaticism; 
with  the  instinct  of  command,  yet  not  domineering 
or  arrogant;  rigidly  methodical  in  his  habits,  yet 
easy  and  affable  in  manner;  thoughtful  and  studious, 
yet  keenly  sagacious  in  practical  affairs  —  he  pos- 
sessed just  that  combination  of  qualities  which  John 
Wesley  most  admired.  He  had  been  profoundly 
impressed  by  the  religious  needs  of  the  colonies,  and 
when,  at  the  Conference  of  1771,  Wesley  called  for 
volunteers  for  America,  Asbury  promptly  offered 
himself,  and  sailed  in  the  following  September.  He 
well  knew  himself  to  be  entering  upon  a  career  of 
exile  and  hardship,  and  he  had  some  misgivings  as 
to  his  own  fitness  for  the  work.  But  he  wrote  in  his 
Journal,  "If  God  does  not  acknowledge  me  in 
America,  I  will  soon  return  to  England."  He  was 
never  to  see  England  or  home  again.  The  next  year, 
1772,  he  was  appointed  by  Wesley  superintendent  of 


THE  YEARS   OF  SUCCESS  239 

all  the  itinerants  in  America,  and,  although  super- 
seded in  that  position  by  another  for  a  short  time,  he 
was  for  the  next  twenty  years  the  director  of  Wesley's 
work,  the  real  founder  of  American  Methodism. 

At  the  outbreak  of  the  war,  Asbury  was  in  much 
uncertainty  as  to  what  he  ought  to  do.  He  early 
foresaw  the  probable  issue  of  the  struggle,  and  hesi- 
tated to  desert  the  people  with  whose  interests  he  had 
become  so  closely  identified.  On  the  other  hand, 
his  early  associations,  his  memories,  his  love  for  his 
home  and  the  aged  mother  to  whom  he  was  tenderly 
attached,  all  drew  him  strongly  toward  England. 
Moreover,  he  knew  that  Wesley  himself  did  not  heart- 
ily approve  the  cause  of  the  colonists,  and  had  advised 
all  the  American  preachers  to  observe  a  strict  neutral- 
ity that,  at  such  a  time,  was  almost  impossible.  All 
his  colleagues  from  England  decided  that  their  posi- 
tion in  America  was  no  longer  practicable.  But 
Asbury  could  not  bring  himself  to  leave  the  three 
thousand  Methodists  of  America.  He  resolved  to 
stay  and  preserve  Wesley's  discipline  and  teaching 
among  the  little  societies  of  Methodists  scattered 
through  the  country.  It  is  impossible  to  overesti- 
mate the  importance  of  that  decision.  For  the  next 
ten  years,  Asbury  held  American  Methodism  together. 
In  toils  and  danger  his  record  matches  that  of  Wesley 
himself.  He  was  always  in  the  saddle,  journeying 
up  and  down  the  country,  twice  a  year,  from  Connecti- 
cut to  the  Carolinas.  Now  he  is  preaching  in  Phila- 
delphia or  Richmond,  and  next  month  he  is  pushing 
his  way  through  almost  pathless  woods  up  the  farther 
slopes  of  the  Alleghanies,  fording  mountain  streams, 
or  riding  through  lonesome  valleys  on  the   outmost 


240  JOHN  WESLEY 

frontiers  of  civilization.  In  one  period  of  ten  months, 
he  estimated  that  he  had  ridden  over  four  thousand 
miles  on  horseback,  over  the  worst  possible  roads, 
and  had  preached  on  an  average  one  sermon  a  day. 
His  difficulties  v^ere,  of  course,  vastly  increased  by 
the  war.  Most  of  the  American  Methodists  were 
patriots,  yet  their  relations  with  Wesley  and  England 
brought  them  everywhere  into  suspicion;  in  a  few 
instances  imprudent  expressions  of  loyalty  to  the 
mother  country  may  have  justified  such  suspicion. 
In  a  period  of  intense  partisan  feeling,  Asbury's  atti- 
tude of  neutrality  was  naturally  interpreted  as  indif- 
ference or  hostihty  to  the  popular  cause.  The  oath 
of  allegiance  very  generally  imposed  upon  those  whose 
patriotism  was  in  doubt  he  could  not  conscientiously 
take,  because  it  contained  a  promise  of  willingness 
to  take  up  arms  against  England,  if  required  to  do  so. 
As  a  result,  he  found  himself  an  object  of  suspicion, 
and  in  the  larger  towns  was  several  times  in  personal 
danger  from  mob  violence.  In  Annapolis,  a  shot 
barely  missed  him,  passing  through  the  chaise  in 
which  he  was  riding.  Through  the  greater  part  of 
two  years,  he  was  obliged  to  confine  his  labors  to  the 
state  of  Delaware,  and  for  some  weeks  in  the  spring 
of  1778  was  in  close  concealment  in  the  house  of  a 
prominent  citizen  of  Dover.  By  the  end  of  the  fol- 
lowing year,  however,  he  was  allowed  to  resume  his 
travels;  and  as  he  came  to  be  more  widely  known, 
his  devotion  and  self-sacrifice,  his  intelligence  and 
the  dignified  charm  of  his  personality,  won  him  friends 
among  high  and  low.  Before  the  close  of  the  war 
he  was  universally  respected  as  a  citizen  and  a  Chris- 
tian minister. 


THE  YEARS    OF   SUCCESS  241 

As  a  result  of  the  tireless  labors  of  Asbury  during 
the  period  of  the  Revolution,  Methodism  in  America, 
so  far  from  declining,  greatly  increased.  At  the  close 
of  the  war,  it  was  estimated  that  there  were  in  the  new 
republic  as  many  as  fifteen  thousand  Methodists,  and 
eighty-four  itinerant  preachers.  Besides  these  itin- 
erants, there  were  a  goodly  number  of  "local  preach- 
ers," who  were  carrying  Methodism  into  the  outskirts 
of  civilization  which  as  yet  no  regular  preacher  had 
reached.  And  Asbury's  strict  notions  of  discipline 
had  kept  all  these  American  Methodists  true  to  Wes- 
ley's doctrine  and  polity.  They  were  gathered  into 
societies  and  classes  formed  after  Wesley's  pattern 
and  governed  by  Wesley's  rules.  Their  lay  itinerant 
preachers  travelled  circuits  assigned  to  them  at  "Con- 
ferences" held  annually.  But  now  that  the  country 
had  definitely  separated  from  England,  the  tie  that 
bound  them  to  the  English  societies  was  felt  to  be 
somewhat  weakened.  And  what  was  of  much  more 
importance,  among  all  these  Methodists,  there  was 
not  a  single  ordained  priest  who  could  minister  to  them 
the  sacraments  of  the  Church.  Their  children  could 
not  be  baptized ;  indeed,  many  of  the  members  of  the 
societies  had  themselves  never  been  baptized.  There 
was  no  one  to  administer  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's 
Supper.  Before  the  war,  the  Methodists  had  been 
theoretically  members  of  the  English  Church,  and 
depended  mostly  upon  the  English  clergy  in  America 
for  the  rites  of  the  Church.  But  the  English  Church 
no  longer  existed  in  America.  Throughout  those 
states  in  the  South  where  the  Methodist  societies  were 
most  numerous,  the  learning  and  piety  of  the  Eng- 
lish clergy  had  sunk  to  a  very  low  ebb  before  the  war ; 


242  JOHN  WESLEY 

now  the  clergy  had  mostly  left  the  country,  and  their 
church  edifices  were,  in  many  instances,  falling  into 
ruin.  In  these  circumstances,  the  Methodists  had 
for  some  years  urgently  demanded  that  their  preachers 
should  assume  the  power  to  administer  the  sacra- 
ments of  baptism  and  the  Lord's  Supper;  at  a  Con- 
ference in  1779,  representing  most  of  the  societies 
south  of  Philadelphia,  the  preachers  assembled  de- 
cided that  it  was  necessary  to  do  so.  But  the  influ- 
ence of  Asbury,  always  fearful  of  any  irregularity, 
induced  them  to  hold  the  matter  in  suspense  till  the 
advice  of  Wesley  could  be  had ;  and  when,  next  year, 
Wesley  by  letter  dissuaded  them  from  any  such  irregu- 
larity, they  consented  to  allow  the  matter  to  remain 
for  the  present  without  action.  But  Wesley  himself 
now  saw  that  his  American  societies  could  not  much 
longer  be  left  without  some  form  of  ecclesiastical  gov- 
ernment, and  without  the  most  sacred  rites  of  religion. 
He  had  twice  entreated  the  Bishop  of  London  to  or- 
dain one  of  the  Wesleyan  preachers  who  might  visit 
the  American  societies;  but  the  bishop  declined. 
Wesley  felt  himself  confronted  with  the  alternative 
either  of  leaving  these  societies  in  their  desolate  state 
to  schism  and  disintegration,  or  of  providing  them 
with  some  form  of  discipline  and  ministration,  even  at 
the  risk  of  violating  ecclesiastical  usage.  Letters  from 
America  were  beseeching  his  assistance.  Fletcher, 
his  most  trusted  adviser,  urged  him  to  accede  to 
their  request.  After  long  and  careful  deliberation, 
he  made  up  his  mind.  He  preferred  the  episcopal 
form  of  government;  but  he  had  long  been  convinced 
that  there  is  no  difference  in  orders  between  bishop 
and  presbyter.     On  this  conviction  he   now  decided 


THE  YEARS   OF  SUCCESS  243 

to  act.  He  selected  his  ablest  preacher,  Dr.  Thomas 
Coke,  an  Oxford  graduate  and  an  ordained  presbyter, 
and  determined  to  send  him  to  America  with  some 
extraordinary  powers.  Coke,  who  was  an  ambitious 
man,  professed  some  hesitation  at  what  he  charac- 
terized as  "a  measure  so  unprecedented  in  modern 
days,"  but  after  considering  it  for  two  months,  con- 
sented to  go,  on  condition  that  Wesley,  "by  the  impo- 
sition of  his  hands,"  should  give  him  the  "power  of 
ordaining  others."^  At  the  summons  of  Wesley  he 
came  up  to  Bristol,  with  two  lay  preachers,  Richard 
Whatcoat  and  Thomas  Vasey;  and  on  the  20th  of 
September,  1780,  in  his  private  room,  Wesley  set  apart 
the  two  lay  preachers  as  presbyters,  and  laying  his 
hands  upon  Coke,  "set  him  apart  to  the  office  of 
Superintendent  of  the  societies  in  America."  Coke 
was  to  proceed  to  America,  and  there,  in  the  same 
way,  ordain  Francis  Asbury,  first  as  deacon,  then  as 
presbyter,  and  then  as  Associate  Superintendent  of 
the  work  in  America.  Coke  reached  America  early 
in  November,  and  a  Conference  of  all  the  preachers 
was  called  to  meet  in  Baltimore  during  Christmas 
week.  Asbury,  sympathizing  with  the  democratic 
temper  of  the  American  societies,  declined  to  be  or- 
dained Superintendent  unless  first  elected  to  the  posi- 
tion by  his  fellow-preachers.  The  Conference,  how- 
ever, at  once  satisfied  that  condition  by  electing  both 
Coke  and  Asbury;  after  which  Coke,  with  the  assist- 
ance of  the  presbyters  Whatcoat  and  Vasey,  solemnly 
set  apart  the  heroic  preacher  as  Associate  Superin- 
tendent, with  himself,  of  all  the  American  societies. 
On  the  following  day,  twelve  of  the  preachers  nomi- 

1  Letter  to  Wesley,  August  9,  1784;  Tyerman,  III,  429. 


244  JOHN   WESLEY 

nated  by  the  Superintendents  and  elected  by  the  Con- 
ference, were  ordained  as  deacons  and  then  as  pres- 
byters or  elders.  Thus  were  laid  the  foundations  of 
the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church. 

No  act  of  Wesley's  has  been  so  warmly  criticised 
as  this  ordination  of  Coke.  For  all  his  previous  devi- 
ations from  ecclesiastical  usage,  his  societies,  his  class 
meetings,  his  field  preaching,  his  lay  preachers,  he 
might  have  pleaded  precedents  from  the  early  ages 
of  the  Church.  He  had  sometimes,  it  is  true, 
strained  rather  severely  his  own  obligations  to  his 
ecclesiastical  superiors;  but  he  claimed  that  he  had 
done  nothing  in  violation  of  a  sound,  though  rather 
broad,  churchmanship.  But  for  this  action  it  was 
more  difficult  to  find  precedent  or  authority.  His 
brother  Charles,  to  whom  Wesley  had  not  disclosed 
his  intention,  was  appalled.  The  American  ordina- 
tions seemed  to  him  the  first  long  step  toward  "a 
schism  as  causeless  and  unprovoked  as  the  American 
rebellion."  He  could  hardly  bring  himself  to  believe 
that  his  brother,  after  a  long  life  of  love  and  reverence 
for  his  Church,  at  the  very  end  of  his  career,  in  the 
eighty-second  year  of  his  age,  should,  with  a  cautious 
secrecy,  assume  the  episcopal  functions,  ordain  elders, 
and  consecrate  a  bishop !  Nothing,  he  averred,  should 
now  separate  him  from  the  brother  he  had  taken  for 
better  and  for  worse  till  death  should  them  part;  but 
he  grieved  that  he  had  lived  long  enough  to  see  that 
evil  day.  The  American  Methodists  were,  he  ad- 
mitted, in  urgent  need;  but  had  they  been  patient 
but  a  very  little  longer,  they  might  have  seen  in  their 
new  country  a  properly  consecrated  bishop,  and  have 
been  kept,  like  the  societies  at  home,  in  loving  com- 


THE  YEARS   OF   SUCCESS  245 

munion  with  the  English  Church.  Now,  they  were 
nothing  more  or  less  than  separatists  and  dissenters. 
Doubtless  Charles  Wesley  was  right  in  the  logic 
of  his  position.  From  a  churchman's  point  of  view, 
orders  conferred  by  John  Wesley  could  have  no  valid- 
ity. Wesley  himself,  as  early  as  1746,  after  reading 
the  rather  crass  and  immature  work  of  Lord  King 
"On  the  Constitution  of  the  Primitive  Church,"  had 
accepted  King's  conclusion  that  there  is  no  difference 
in  orders  between  bishop  and  presbyter;  and  he  had 
repeated  that  opinion,  with  more  or  less  positiveness, 
at  various  times  since  that  year.  He  now  wrote  to 
Charles,  "1  firmly  believe  I  am  a  scriptural  episcopos 
as  much  as  any  man  in  England,  for  the  uninterrupted 
succession  I  know  to  be  a  fable  that  no  man  can  prove. " 
Yet  during  the  forty  years  in  which  he  had  held  this 
view,  he  had  never  ventured  to  act  upon  it.  Many 
of  the  English  Methodists  would  gladly  have  received 
the  sacraments  at  the  hands  of  their  itinerant  lay 
preachers  rather  than  from  an  indifferent  or  hostile 
parish  priest;  but  Wesley  had  declared  that  for  an 
unordained  preacher  to  administer  within  his  societies 
was  "a  sin  which  he  dare  not  tolerate,"  while  yet  he 
seems  never  to  have  thought  of  ordaining  any  of  his 
lay  preachers.  His  action  in  the  case  of  Coke  is  still 
more  difficult  to  reconcile  with  any  notions  of  church- 
manship.  By  his  own  theory,  both  Coke  and  him- 
self were  of  the  same  order,  and  if  there  be  no  differ- 
ence in  order  between  presbyter  and  bishop,  neither 
one  of  these  two  presbyters  could  confer  upon  the 
other  any  authority  beyond  what  both  already  pos- 
sessed. It  is  true  that  Wesley  was  careful  to  avoid 
the  word  ''ordain"  in  speaking  of  his  action,  and  he 


246  JOHN  WESLEY 

was  irritated  at  hearing  that  Coke  and  Asbury  soon 
allowed  themselves  to  be  called  "bishops."  But  he 
had  solemnly  "set  apart  by  the  imposition  of  my 
hands"  Coke  to  exercise  ecclesiastical  functions  per- 
mitted to  no  other  presbyters.  Some  years  before  he 
had  "appointed"  Asbury  "Superintendent"  of  the 
work  in  America;  but  that  appointment  carried  with 
it  no  episcopal  or  even  priestly  functions.  Now  it 
was  distinctly  understood  that  Coke  and  Asbury 
were  to  be  "set  apart"  in  order  to  give  to  the  Ameri- 
can societies  an  episcopal  form  of  government;  and 
Wesley  made  no  objection  to  the  title  which  the  Con- 
ference in  America  at  once  assumed,  the  "Methodist 
Episcopal  Church  in  America."  And  whatever  may 
have  been  his  theoretical  opinions  as  to  the  nature 
of  the  episcopal  office,  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  so 
clear  a  thinker  as  Wesley  could  have  been  blind  to  the 
practical  conclusions  that  might  logically  have  been 
drawn  from  his  action.  If  any  presbyter  of  the  Church 
of  England,  for  what  seemed  to  him  good  and  suffi- 
cient reasons,  could  invite  into  his  back  parlor  another 
presbyter  and  there  solemnly  "set  him  apart"  for 
the  work  —  if  not  for  the  office  —  of  a  bishop,  then 
ecclesiastical  discipline  within  the  Church  of  England 
was  plainly  at  an  end. 

It  is  best  to  admit  frankly  that  Wesley's  conduct, 
however  described,  was  inconsistent  with  any  strict 
churchmanship,  and  to  be  defended  only  by  those 
who  consider  forms  of  church  constitution  and  gov- 
ernment to  be  matters  of  expediency,  and  not  of  uni- 
versal obligation.  To  those  who  so  believe,  it  will 
be  sufficient  to  say  that  Wesley  was  fully  justified  in 
breaking  with  usage  and  discipline  when  convinced 


THE  YEARS   OF  SUCCESS  247 

that  only  so  could  the  religious  welfare  of  great  num- 
bers of  his  fellow-men  be  conserved.  That  is  the  opin- 
ion of  the  vast  majority  of  Methodists  to-day,  on  both 
sides  the  Atlantic;  that  will  probably  be  the  verdict 
of  the  impartial  historian  in  the  future. 

Doubtless  this  first  great  departure  from  strict 
churchmanship  made  the  next  more  easy.  The 
Methodists  in  Scotland  thought  themselves  subject  to 
privations  almost  equal  to  those  suffered  by  their 
brothers  in  America.  There  was,  it  is  true,  a  branch 
of  the  English  Church  in  Scotland ;  but  for  more  than 
a  hundred  years  it  had  been  regarded  by  the  mass  of 
the  Scottish  people  with  marked  aversion,  as  little 
better  than  a  relic  of  popery.  The  Methodists  over 
the  Tweed  generally  shared  this  prejudice;  while, 
in  turn,  the  Anglican  clergy  there  regarded  them 
with  contempt,  and  in  many  instances  refused  them 
the  sacraments  unless  they  would  renounce  Method- 
ist doctrine  and  discipline.  It  was  natural,  there- 
fore, that  the  demand  for  ordained  Methodist  preachers 
should  be  specially  urgent  in  Scotland.  To  this  de- 
mand Wesley  now  acceded,  and  in  1785  set  apart  three 
of  his  preachers  to  minister  in  Scotland.  He  would 
seem  to  have  taken  this  step  with  hesitation  and  per- 
haps against  his  own  better  judgment;  at  all  events, 
in  his  Journal  he  says  that  he  yielded  to  the  pressure 
of  his  advisers.  In  the  next  two  years  seven  more  of 
his  lay  preachers  were  thus  given  power  to  administer 
the  rites  of  the  Church  in  Scotland.  But  only  in 
Scotland.  The  moment  these  ministers  crossed  the 
border  into  England  they  subsided  into  plain  lay 
preachers.  When  one  of  them,  after  a  period  of  ser- 
vice in  Scotland,  returned  to  take  an  English  circuit, 


248  JOHN  WESLEY 

Wesley  insisted  that  he  doff  his  gown  and  bands  and 
lay  aside  the  title  of  Reverend.  It  is  true  that  in 
1789  he  seems  to  have  ordained  three  of  his  lay  preach- 
ers without  assigning  them,  as  he  had  all  those  previ- 
ously ordained,  to  Scotland  or  the  West  Indies.  Yet 
it  is  not  quite  certain  that  he  expected  these  three  to 
exercise  their  clerical  functions  in  England:  it  seems 
probable  that  they  did  not  do  so  during  his  lifetime. 
As  Methodism  developed  a  more  highly  organized 
form,  it  must  have  been  increasingly  evident,  even  to 
Wesley  himself,  that  there  would  be  difficulty  in  con- 
fining it  within  the  usages  and  sanction  of  the  Estab- 
lishment. A  complete  system  of  worship  and  disci- 
pline had  grown  up  under  his  direction,  with  methods 
and  offices  unknown  to  the  English  Church  of  his 
time.  A  large  number  of  men  not  in  orders  were 
preaching  by  the  authority  and  under  the  direction 
of  a  single  clergyman,  a  Fellow  of  Lincoln  College, 
and  owning  responsibility  to  no  other  ecclesiastical 
superior.  The  buildings  which  many  of  the  societies 
had  erected  could  be  licensed  as  places  of  worship 
•only  under  the  Toleration  Act  —  an  act  framed  solely 
for  the  benefit  of  Dissenters.  The  members  of  the 
societies  generally  felt  that  they  were  only  half  wel- 
come in  church.  They  chafed  under  the  rule  that 
their  chapels,  to  them  the  most  sacred  places  of  wor- 
ship, must  always  be  closed  during  the  hours  of  church 
service.  Many  of  them  thought  it  a  hardship  that 
the  sacraments  of  their  faith  could  be  ministered  to 
them  only  at  the  hands  of  the  parish  clergy  who 
regarded  them  too  often  with  bitter  prejudice;  and 
they  not  unnaturally  desired  that  the  men  who  were 
their  pastors  and  teachers  should  also  be  their  priests. 


THE   YEARS   OF  SUCCESS  249 

The  truth  is  that  the  Wesleyan  movement  in  forty 
years  had  assumed  such  proportions  and  elaborated 
such  a  separate  organization  as  to  make  permanent 
inclusion  in  the  Establishment  impossible.  Had  the 
earlier  attitude  of  the  clergy  been  more  intelligent 
and  liberal,  the  Church  might  perhaps  have  retained 
within  its  pale,  not  only  Wesley  but  his  followers; 
but  it  was  now  too  late.  This  conviction  must  have 
forced  itself  sometimes  upon  Wesley;  but  he  was 
unwilling  to  admit  it.  It  was  only  with  great  reluc- 
tance that  he  made  any  concessions  to  the  spirit  of 
separation,  or  relaxed  any  of  those  regulations  by 
which  he  had  thought  to  bind  Methodists  to  the 
Church.  At  the  Conference  of  1786,  he  consented, 
in  response  to  numerous  requests,  that  service  might 
be  held  in  Methodist  chapels  at  the  same  hours  as  in 
church,  but  only  where  the  parish  minister  was  a  no- 
toriously wicked  man  or  preached  clearly  pernicious 
doctrine,  or  when  the  churches  in  the  town  were  not 
sufficient  to  contain  half  the  people,  or  when  there 
was  no  church  at  all  within  two  or  three  miles  of  the 
chapel.  But  the  next  year,  he  declared  that  this 
permission,  even  when  so  closely  hedged  about,  had 
probably  done  no  good  anywhere  in  England;  and 
when,  in  1789,  Coke  —  who  had  returned  from 
America  —  ventured  to  hold  service  in  the  largest 
Methodist  chapel  in  Dublin  during  church  hours, 
Wesley  was  deeply  disturbed,  and  gave  a  reluctant 
assent  to  the  innovation  only  on  condition  that  the 
chapel  should  be  closed  on  all  Communion  days.  As 
he  drew  near  the  close  of  life,  the  ritual,  the  offices, 
the  traditions  of  the  English  Church,  endeared  by 
long  memory  and  association,   grew  more  sacred  to 


250  JOHN  WESLEY 

him.  He  was  pained  at  every  indication  of  dissent. 
Visiting  one  day  in  1788  a  new  chapel  in  Glasgow, 
he  notes  that  it  is  as  large  and  commodious  as  his 
favorite  preaching  place  in  Bath,  yet  adds,  with  a 
tinge  of  foreboding,  "But  oh,  the  difference!  It  has 
the  pulpit  on  one  side,  and  exactly  the  look  of  a  Pres- 
byterian meeting  house.  Perhaps  an  omen  of  what 
will  be  when  I  am  gone."  He  had  certainly  allowed 
himself  larger  liberty  within  the  Establishment  than 
it  was  easy  to  defend,  and  had  pained  his  brother 
Charles  by  acts  that  really  meant  separation;  yet,  for 
himself,  he  always  protested  that  he  would  never  leave 
the  Church,  nor  countenance  any  one  else  in  doing  so. 
In  a  letter  to  the  Dublin  Chronicle  three  years  before 
his  death,  he  declared,  ''Unless  I  see  more  reasons 
for  it  than  I  ever  yet  saw,  I  will  not  leave  the  Church 
of  England  as  by  law  established,  while  the  breath  of 
God  is  in  my  nostrils."  And  over  and  over  again, 
with  all  publicity,  he  repeated  that  statement  during 
his  latest  years.  He  could  not  be  blind  to  the  indica- 
tions that,  after  death,  many  Methodists  would  sever 
a  connection  that  had  already  become  only  nominal; 
yet  to  the  last  he  seems  to  have  persuaded  himself  that 
such  separation  would  be  only  partial  and  temporary. 
He  would  not  think  that  the  great  volume  of  religious 
experience  and  influence  which  it  had  been  the  work 
of  his  life  to  generate  was  to  pass  outside  the  Church 
altogether.  His  own  hopes  and  fears  and  wishes  are 
pathetically  blended  in  the  oft-quoted  valedictory  paper 
which  he  printed  in  the  Arminian  Magazine  less  than 
a  year  before  his  death:  — 

"I  never  had  any  design  of  separating  from  the 
Church.     I  have  no  such  design  now.     I  do  not  be- 


THE  YEARS  OF  SUCCESS  251 

lieve  the  Methodists  in  general  design  it,  when  I  am  no 
more  seen.  I  do,  and  will  do,  all  that  is  in  my  power 
to  prevent  such  an  event.  Nevertheless,  in  spite  of 
all  that  I  can  do,  many  of  them  will  separate  from 
it  (although,  I  am  apt  to  think,  not  one-half,  perhaps 
not  one-third  of  them).  These  will  be  so  bold  and 
injudicious  as  to  form  a  separate  party,  which,  conse- 
quently, will  dwindle  away  into  a  dry,  dull,  separate 
party.  In  flat  opposition  to  these,  I  declare  once 
more,  that  I  live  and  die  a  member  of  the  Church  of 
England;  and  that  none  who  regard  my  judgment 
or  advice  will  ever  separate  from  it." 

The  prediction  in  this  passage  is  a  proof  of  Wesley's 
abiding  love  and  loyalty  for  his  Church;  it  is  a  proof 
also  of  his  inability  adequately  to  appreciate  the  mag- 
nitude and  permanence  of  the  religious  movement 
that  bears  his  name. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

THE    CLOSING    YEARS 

Wesley's  last  years  were  blessed  with  — 

"  All  that  should  accompany  old  age, 
As  honor,  love,  obedience,  troops  of  friends." 

Active  opposition  to  his  work  had  entirely  ceased. 
His  life  of  devotion  to  the  highest  good  of  man  had 
won  the  respect  of  all  who  knew  his  name,  and  the 
reverent  love  of  thousands  who  called  themselves  his 
friends.  In  his  journeyings  during  these  later  years, 
it  often  happened  that  a  company  of  his  friends  would 
follow  him  out  from  one  town,  walking  beside  the 
carriage,  till  they  met  a  similar  company  approaching 
to  welcome  him  from  the  next  town.  On  his  last  visit 
to  Ireland,  a  year  and  a  half  before  his  death,  that 
warm-hearted  people,  rich  and  poor  alike,  flocked  to 
hear  him,  with  warmest  demonstrations  of  affection. 
The  Journal  for  those  months  contains  frequent  touch- 
ing records  of  his  partings  with  families  who  felt  they 
were  seeing  him  for  the  last  time. 

"A  more  affectionate  family  than  Mr.  McCarty's 
I  have  not  found  in  the  Kingdom.  This  appeared  more 
particularly  in  the  morning.  When  we  were  talking 
together,  one  and  another  fell  on  their  knees  all  around 
me,  and  most  of  them  burst  into  tears  and  earnest 
cries,  the  like  of  which  I  have  seldom  heard:  so  that 
we  scarce  knew  how  to  part.  "^ 

^  May  26,  1789. 
252 


THE  CLOSING  YEARS  253 

''I  lodged  at  T.  Briscoe's:  a  lovely  family  indeed: 
just  such  another  as  Miss  B.'s  at  Keynsham.  .  .  . 
When  I  took  my  leave  of  the  family  they  came  all  in 
tears.     It  is  long  since  I  saw  the  like.'-'^ 

When  he  was  to  sail  back  to  England,  a  great 
multitude  followed  him  to  the  ship,  crowding  about 
him  with  tears  to  press  his  hand,  while  many  fell  on 
his  neck  and  kissed  him.  Wesley  sang  a  parting  hymn 
with  them,  and  kneeling  on  the  pier  in  the  centre  of 
the  sorrowing  company,  prayed  for  God's  blessing  on 
them,  their  families,  Ireland,  and  the  Church.  Then 
stepping  on  board,  as  the  ship  slowly  drew  away,  the 
venerable  man  remained  standing  on  deck,  his  hands 
lifted  in  benediction  over  the  weeping  throng  who  were 
to  see  his  face  no  more.  His  last  visit  to  Cornwall,  in 
the  same  year,  was  accompanied  by  similar  scenes.  In 
Falmouth  where,  forty  years  before,  he  was  taken  pris- 
oner by  a  howling  mob  and  escaped  by  what  seemed  a 
marvellous  chance,  he  now  found  the  street  where  he 
passed  lined  from  one  end  of  the  town  to  the  other  by 
''high  and  low,  out  of  stark  love  and  kindness,  gaping 
and  staring  as  if  the  King  were  going  by."  In  the 
evening  he  preached  on  a  little  hill  outside  the  town  to 
an  immense  crowd,  and  going  on  thence  to  Redruth, 
preached  the  following  Sunday  in  the  vast  natural  am- 
phitheatre of  Gwennap,  to  an  audience  of  over  twenty- 
five  thousand.  No  wonder  the  old  man  of  eighty-six 
thought  it  "hardly  possible  that  all  should  hear." 

He  was  now  generally  welcome  in  the  churches,  and 
spoke  in  many  pulpits  that,  in  the  early  days,  had  been 
indignantly  closed  against  him.  In  the  last  year  of  his 
life  he  writes  in  the  Journal  that  he  has  preached  in 

1  July  14,  1789. 


254  JOHN  WESLEY 

Great  St.  Helen's,  London,  to  a  large  congregation,  and 
he  adds,  ''It  is,  I  believe,  fifty  years  since  I  preached 
there  before.  What  hath  God  wrought  since  that 
time!"  In  fact,  he  had  not  preached  there  since  that 
May  evening  in  1738  when  his  "heart  was  so  enlarged 
to  declare  the  love  of  God"  that  he  did  not  wonder  at 
the  sentence  of  the  formal  rector,  "Sir,  you  must  preach 
here  no  more."  Many  of  his  warmest  opponents  he 
now  found  ready  to  admit  the  nobility  of  his  purpose 
and  the  charm  of  his  conversation,  and  quite  willing  to 
accept  his  friendship  if  not  his  opinions.  While  in 
Cork,  in  the  summer  of  1787, — where  he  was  most 
hospitably  entertained  by  the  mayor,  —  he  was  invited 
by  a  prominent  gentleman  to  breakfast  "with  my  old 
antagonist.  Father  O'Leary,"  a  Roman  Catholic  priest 
with  whom  he  had  been  in  warm  controversy  seven 
years  before  over  the  Catholic  Emancipation  Question. 
"I  was  not  at  all  displeased,"  says  Wesley,  "at  being 
disappointed.  He  is  not  the  stiff,  queer  man  that  I 
expected;  but  of  an  easy,  genteel  carriage,  and  seems 
not  to  be  wanting  either  in  sense  or  learning."  It  is 
probably  safe  to  say  that  Father  O'Leary  was  also 
pleasantly  disappointed  in  Wesley. 

For  Wesley's  temper  grew  more  mellow  and  genial 
quite  to  the  end  of  his  life.  He  never  showed  anything 
of  the  querulousness  or  prejudice,  the  habit  of  insistent 
reminiscence,  that  sometimes  lessen  the  charm  of  age. 
His  conversation  in  his  latest  years  was  even  more  viva- 
cious and  wide-ranging  than  in  early  life.  He  retained 
in  increased  degree  all  his  liking  for  books,  for  music,  for 
really  good  society.  In  particular  his  love  for  natural 
scenery  deepened  in  his  old  age.  He  had  passed  most  of 
his  life  in  the  open  air,  and  his  sense  of  the  beauty  of 


THE  CLOSING  YEARS  255 

the  world  was  never  so  keen  as  in  his  very  last  years. 
He  has  an  excellent  gift  of  summary  description,  and 
the  later  pages  of  the  Journal  are  brightened  by  many 
beguiling  glimpses  of  the  scenes  through  which  he  trav- 
els, or  in  which  he  stands  to  preach.  On  one  day  he 
speaks  in  a  ''most  pleasing  place,  shaded  with  tall, 
spreading  trees,  near  which  ran  a  clear  river."  At 
another  time  he  is  riding  through  an  Irish  valley,  "pleas- 
ant beyond  description.  At  a  very  small  distance  on 
the  left  hand  the  river  'rolled  its  sinuous  train,'  beyond 
which  were  shady  trees,  covering  a  steep  hill,  and 
rising  row  above  row.  On  the  right  hand  we  had 
another  sloping  mountain,  tufted  over  with  trees,  some- 
times forming  one  green,  even  wall,  sometimes  scat- 
tered up  and  down,  and  between  them  several  beauti- 
ful seats."  In  the  summer  of  1783,  he  made  a  brief 
visit  to  Holland,  and  speaks  with  enthusiasm  of  the 
rich  and  cultivated  charm  of  that  fertile  land.  "I 
never  saw  such  a  country  before ;  I  suppose  there  is  no 
such  summer  country  in  Europe.  From  Amsterdam  to 
Mere,  it  is  all  a  train  of  most  delightful  gardens."  But 
he  adds,  a  few  days  later,  with  an  old  man's  fond  recol- 
lection of  the  scenes  endeared  to  his  early  years,  that  the 
gardens  and  walks  in  Holland,  though  extremely  pleas- 
ant, are  "not  to  be  compared  with  St.  John's  or  Trinity 
Gardens,  much  less  with  the  parks,  Magdalen  Water- 
Walks,  Christ  Church  Meadows,  or  the  White  Walk." 
One  sees  by  the  Journal  that  on  his  constant  journey- 
ings  through  England  and  Scotland  he  found  his  choic- 
est —  indeed,  almost  his  only  —  recreation  in  visiting 
parks  and  gardens ;  the  Journal  records  scores  of  such 
visits.  Yet  he  was  more  profoundly  moved  by  nature 
in  her  larger  and  more  untutored  forms.     His  favorite 


256  JOHN  WESLEY 

preaching  place  was  the  vast  natural  amphitheatre  of 
Gwennap,  in  Cornwall;  and  on  his  last  visit  to  Land's 
End,  in  his  eighty-third  year,  he  insisted  upon  climbing 
down  the  rugged  wave-beaten  cliff  to  stand  on  the  wild 
spot  commemorated  by  his  brother  Charles  in  the 
hymn  — 

"  Lo,  on  a  narrow  neck  of  land 
'  Twixt  two  unbounded  seas  I  stand. " 

But,  although  the  object  of  universal  love  and 
reverence,  and  retaining  all  his  sense  of  the  healthy  joys 
of  life,  Wesley  felt  an  old  man's  loneliness  as  the  friends 
of  earlier  years,  one  after  another,  were  remioved  by 
death.  Fletcher  of  Madeley,  the  best  beloved  of  all 
his  preachers,  died  in  1785,  and  left  a  void  in  Wesley's 
heart  that  no  one  else  could  fill.  In  the  same  year, 
Vincent  Perronet,  Vicar  of  Shoreham,  the  '' Archbishop 
of  Methodism,"  ninety- two  years  of  age  and  for  almost 
half  a  century  friend  and  adviser  of  both  the  Wesleys, 
dropped  peacefully  out  of  life.  "I  follow  hard  after," 
wrote  Wesley  in  the  Journal;  "O  that  I  may  follow 
him  in  holiness,  and  may  my  last  end  be  like  his." 
The  younger  men  among  his  preachers,  like  Coke  and 
Benson  and  Adam  Clarke,  though  devoted  and  earnest^ 
could  never  quite  take  the  place  of  those  who  had 
borne  with  him  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day.  But 
the  heaviest  blow  of  all  fell  when  he  was  bereft  of  his 
brother  Charles.  Widely  different  in  temperament,  the 
two  brothers  had  often  differed  sharply  in  opinion ;  but 
nothing  could  ever  estrange  them  in  sympathy.  In 
the  later  years  of  his  life  Charles  Wesley  had  travelled 
but  little,  but  lived  steadily  in  London,  exercising,  in 
the  absence  of  John,  a  kind  of  paternal  watchfulness 
over  the  London  societies.     His  domestic  life  was  very 


THE  CLOSING  YEARS  257 

happy;  and  the  celebrity  of  his  two  sons  made  his 
house  a  musical  centre  in  which  some  of  the  most  fa- 
mous musicians  and  most  brilliant  society  of  London 
listened  to  concerts  by  the  two  remarkable  young  per- 
formers. But  Charles  Wesley's  interest  in  the  great 
mission  of  Methodism  to  poor  and  humble  folk  never 
in  the  slightest  degree  diminished;  he  preached  and 
administered  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper  in 
the  West  Street  and  City  Road  Chapels  as  long  as  his 
failing  strength  would  allow.  It  is  true  that  he  clung 
far  more  tenaciously  than  John  to  the  usages  and  tradi- 
tions of  the  Church  of  England.  He  had  been  shocked 
and  alarmed,  as  we  have  seen,  by  the  countenance  John 
had  given  to  separatist  tendencies.  The  American  or- 
dinations ;  the  demand  of  some  of  the  English  preach- 
ers to  assume  ministerial  functions;  the  probability 
growing,  as  he  knew,  into  a  practical  certainty,  that 
after  the  death  of  his  brother  the  Methodists  would  be- 
come a  dissenting  body  —  these  things  gave  very  genu- 
ine grief  to  Charles  Wesley  in  his  declining  vears.  He 
felt,  as  he  wrote  a  friend  in  1785,  that  the  action  of 
John  in  these  matters  was  likely  to  ''dissolve  their  part- 
nership." But  nothing  could  dissolve  or  alter  his  affec- 
tion for  his  brother.  "We  have  taken  each  other,"  he 
wrote  John  in  1784,  "for  better,  for  worse,  till  death 
do  us  part?  No;  but  unite  eternally."  His  health 
had  been  failing  for  two  years  when,  at  the  beginning  of 
1788,  he  became  unable  to  leave  his  house,  and  after 
two  months  of  weakness  and  exhaustion,  the  sands  of 
life  ran  out.  He  died  on  the  29th  of  March.  Firm  in 
his  churchmanship  to  the  last,  he  directed  that  his  fu- 
neral services  should  be  conducted,  not  by  one  of  the 
Methodist  preachers,  but  by  the  rector  of  his  parish 


2S8  JOHN  WESLEY 

church,  and  that  his  body  should  be  buried,  not  in  the 
cemetery  adjoining  the  City  Road  Chapel,  but  in  the 
consecrated  ground  of  Mary le bone  Churchyard. 

John  Wesley  had  not  expected  the  end  so  soon,  and 
was  absent  from  London  on  one  of  his  tours  of  visita- 
tion. It  is  said  that  at  the  very  moment  of  the  death 
of  Charles,  John  was  singing  with  a  congregation  in 
Shropshire  his  brother's  noble  hymn :  — 

"  Come,  let  us  join  our  friends  above 

Who  have  obtained  the  prize, 
And,  on  the  eagle  wings  of  love, 

To  joys  celestial  rise. 
Let  all  the  saints  terrestrial  sing, 

With  those  to  glory  gone : 
For  all  the  servants  of  our  King, 

In  earth  and  heaven  are  one. 

"  One  family  we  dwell  in  Him, 

One  church,  above,  beneath, 
Though  now  divided  by  the  stream, 

The  narrow  stream  of  death  : 
One  army  of  the  living  God, 

To  His  command  we  bow, 
Part  of  His  host  have  crossed  the  flood, 

And  part  are  crossing  now. " 

Two  weeks  later,  at  Bolton,  he  gave  out  that  other 
famous  hymn  of  his  brother's :  — 

"  Come,  O  thou  Traveller  Unknown," 

but  when  he  came  to  the  lines  — 

"  My  company  before  is  gone 
And  I  am  left  alone  with  thee," 

he  could  read  no  further,  but  sat  down,  buried  his  face 
in  his  hands,  and  burst  into  sobs  and  tears.  For  the 
widow  of  Charles  he  showed  a  tender  and  solicitous 
care ;  and  the  affection  of  the  old  man  for  her  daughter 
and  namesake,  his  favorite  niece  Sally,  was  very  beau- 


THE  CLOSING  YEARS  259 

tiful.  But  he  had  now  outKved  all  the  friends  of  his 
youth.  He  was  as  a  father  to  thousands,  but  he  had 
no  more  brothers;  and  in  the  few  remaining  years  of 
his  life,  though  always  active  and  cheerful,  he  felt  him- 
self alone. 

Occasional  references  in  the  Journal  betray  some 
slight  and  gradual  decline  in  Wesley's  health  during 
these  last  years,  yet  he  retained  his  vigor  both  of  mind 
and  body,  in  a  wonderful  degree,  almost  to  the  very 
close  of  life.  In  1786,  when  eighty-three  years  old,  he 
records  with  some  regret  that  he  cannot  now  write  more 
than  fifteen  hours  a  day  without  hurting  his  eyes.  Two 
years  later,  when  his  friends  urged  him  to  ride  to  a 
preaching  place  six  miles  out  of  Bristol,  "I  am 
ashamed,"  replied  this  youth  of  eighty-five,  "that  any 
Methodist  preacher  in  tolerable  health  should  make  a 
difficulty  of  this,"  and  tramped  away.  On  his  birth- 
day, that  summer,  as  he  enters  his  eighty-sixth  year,  he 
writes  that  he  cannot  run  or  walk  quite  so  fast  as  once 
he  did,  that  his  sight  is  a  little  declining,  and  he  has 
some  twinges  of  rheumatism ;  but  hearing,  smell,  taste, 
and  appetite  are  as  good  as  ever  they  were ;  he  feels  no 
such  thing  as  weariness  in  travelling  or  preaching,  and 
finds  that  he  can  write  as  readily  and  as  correctly  as 
ever.  A  week  before  this  entry  he  had  breakfasted  in 
York  with  one  of  his  ministers,  Robert  Spence,  at  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  ordered  his  coachman  to 
have  his  carriage  at  the  door  at  four  —  "I  don't  mean 
a  quarter,  or  five  minutes,  past,  but  /owr;"  and  as  the 
clock  was  striking,  Wesley  entered  the  chaise  and  drove 
off. 

This  remarkable  preservation  of  bodily  vigor  he  at- 
tributed —  and  no  doubt  justly  —  to  his  constant  life  in 


26o  JOHN  WESLEY 

the  open  air,  to  the  absolute  regularity  of  his  habits,  and 
to  the  fact  that  he  had  always  kept  himself  free  from 
needless  care  and  anxiety.  He  was  a  striking  example 
of  the  familiar  truth  that  work,  without  worry,  never 
kills.  It  was  only  during  the  last  year  and  a  half  of  his 
life  that  there  was  any  marked  decline  of  his  powers. 
On  his  last  birthday,  he  writes,  without  complaint  or 
sadness,  but  with  a  quiet  recognition  of  the  approach- 
ing end :  "This  day  I  enter  into  my  eighty-eighth  year. 
For  above  eighty-six  years  I  found  none  of  the  infirmi- 
ties of  age ;  my  eyes  did  not  wax  dim,  neither  was  my 
natural  strength  abated;  but  last  August  I  found  a 
sudden  change.  My  eyes  were  so  dim  that  no  glasses 
would  help  them.  My  strength  likewise  had  quite  for- 
saken me,  and  probably  will  not  return  in  this  world. 
But  I  feel  no  pain  from  head  to  foot,  only  it  seems 
nature  is  exhausted ;  and,  humanly  speaking,  will  sink 
more  and  more  till  — 

" '  The  weary  springs  of  life  stand  still  at  last.' "  ^ 

Yet  he  did  not  lessen  his  labors.  During  the  year 
1790,  he  made  his  circuit  of  England  and  Wales,  preach- 
ing in  almost  every  shire,  and  sometimes  riding  from 
thirty  to  fifty  miles  in  a  day.  In  October,  he  was  in  Col- 
chester, and  one  of  his  audience  there  has  left  an  inter- 
esting account  of  his  preaching.  Henry  Crabbe  Robin- 
son, then  only  sixteen  years  of  age,  an  articled  clerk  in 
an  attorney's  ofiice,  heard  then  for  the  first  time  "that 
veteran  in  the  service  of  God."  Wesley  stood  in  a 
wide  pulpit,  on  each  side  of  him  a  minister,  and  the 
two  held  him  up.  "I  looked  upon  him,"  says  his 
young  hearer  in  a  letter  written  the  next  day,  "with  a 
respect  bordering  on  enthusiasm.     After  the  people  had 

1  Journal,  June  28,  1790. 


JOHN    WESLEY. 
From  an  engraving  of  the  painting  by  Jackson. 


THE  CLOSING  YEARS  261 

sung  one  verse  of  a  hymn,  he  arose  and  said,  'It  gives 
me  great  pleasure  to  find  you  have  not  lost  your  sing- 
ing. Neither  men  nor  women  —  you  have  not  for- 
gotten a  single  note.  And  I  hope  that,  by  the  assist- 
ance of  the  same  God  which  enables  you  to  sing  well, 
you  may  do  all  other  things  well.'  A  universal  amen 
followed.  .  .  .  His  discourse  was  short  —  the  text  I 
could  not  hear.  After  the  last  prayer,  he  rose  up  and 
addressed  the  audience  on  liberality  of  sentiment,  and 
spoke  much  against  refusing  to  join  with  any  congrega- 
tion on  account  of  differences  of  opinion.  He  said,  *If 
they  do  but  fear  God,  work  righteousness,  and  keep 
the  Commandments,  we  have  nothing  to  object  to.'" 

This  young  attorney's  clerk,  as  he  grew  to  manhood, 
came  to  know  and  hear  most  of  the  great  men  of  two 
generations  in  England ;  but  he  used  to  say,  never  in  all 
his  later  life  had  he  seen  anything  comparable  to  the 
picture  of  this  aged  preacher,  with  the  reverend  coun- 
tenance, the  long  white  locks,  and  the  gentle  voice, 
surrounded  by  a  vast  audience  of  admiring  and  loving 
friends,  eager  to  catch  some  words  from  the  lips  so 
soon  to  be  silent. 

Two  days  later  Wesley  preached  at  Lowestoft,  and 
the  poet  Crabbe,  who  was  in  the  audience,  noted  with 
admiration,  the  cheerful  serenity  of  his  manner  and  the 
charm  of  his  voice,  as  he  repeated  and  applied  to  him- 
self a  favorite  passage  from  Anacreon :  — 

"  Oft  am  I  by  woman  told, 
Poor  Anacreon !  thou  grow'st  old : 
See,  thine  hairs  are  falling  all : 
Poor  Anacreon,  how  they  fall! 
Whether  I  grow  old  or  no, 
By  these  signs  I  do  not  know ; 
But  this  I  need  not  to  be  told, 
*'Tis  time  to  live^  if  I  grow  old.'" 


262  JOHN   WESLEY 

In  the  opening  weeks  of  the  next  year,  1 791,  he  made 
plans  for  his  usual  journey  through  England,  sent  his 
chaise  and  horses  before  him  to  Bristol,  and  had  be- 
spoken seats  for  himself  and  his  friends  in  the  Bath 
coach  for  about  the  first  of  March.  As  late  as  the  19th 
of  February,  it  appears  from  one  of  his  letters  that  he 
still  hoped  to  start  on  the  28th;  but  on  the  25th,  which 
was  Sunday,  he  was  so  ill  as  to  be  quite  unable  to 
preach,  and  was  obliged  to  take  to  his  bed.  Next  day, 
however,  he  was  out  again;  on  Tuesday  he  preached 
in  the  City  Road  Chapel,  and  on  Wednesday  preached 
again  at  Leatherhead,  eighteen  miles  from  London. 
Thursday  he  spent  quietly  with  an  old  friend,  Mr. 
Wolff,  at  Balham,  and  seemed  as  active  in  mind  and 
cheerful  in  spirits  as  ever.  It  was  on  this  day  that  he 
penned,  with  trembling  hand,  his  last  letter.  Inter- 
ested to  the  end  in  all  measures  of  public  reform,  he 
wrote  to  William  Wilberforce  ^  bidding  that  young 
champion  God-speed  in  his  crusade  against  human 
slavery.  "Go  on,"  wrote  Wesley,  ''in  the  name  of 
God  and  the  power  of  his  might,  till  even  American 
slavery,  the  vilest  that  ever  saw  the  sun,  shall  vanish 
away  before  it." 

On  his  return  to  London  next  day,  Friday,  Febru- 
ary 25,  he  repaired  to  his  room  in  City  Road,  and  never 
left  it  again.  During  the  three  following  days,  his 
strength  was  fast  ebbing,  and  it  was  evident  that  the 
end  was  near.  He  slept  much ;  but  he  knew  the  friends 
who  gathered  about  him  in  those  closing  days,  and  gave 
directions  for  his  burial  and  the  disposal  of  his  effects. 
In  waking  intervals  he  several  times  sang  some  lines 

1  This  Letter  in  his  Works  (VII,  237)  bears  the  title  "  To  a  Friend  " ; 
but  it  is  known  to  have  been  intended  for  Wilberforce. 


THE  CLOSING  YEARS  263 

from  his  brother's  hymns,  and  even  in  the  half  dream- 
ing quiet  of  sleep  his  failing  voice  would  frame  the  words 
of  Scripture  or  hymn,  or  bid  his  friends  ''Pray  and 
praise."  On  Tuesday  afternoon  he  insisted  on  sitting 
up,  and  while  he  was  assisted  to  rise  broke  out  into 
singing,  with  a  strength  that  astonished  his  friends :  — 

"  I'll  praise  my  Maker  while  I've  breath  ; 

And  when  my  voice  is  lost  in  death, 
Praise  shall  employ  my  nobler  powers ; 

My  days  of  praise  shall  ne'er  be  past. 
While  life,  and  thought,  and  being  last, 

Or  immortality  endures." 

He  sang  through  two  stanzas,  and  tried  to  begin  a  dox- 
ology;  but  the  exertion  was  too  much,  and  he  sank 
back  exhausted,  faltering  as  if  in  benediction,  ''Now 
we  have  done;  let  us  all  go."  When  the  widow  of 
Charles  Wesley  came  to  his  bedside,  his  eyes  already 
too  dim  to  see  her  clearly,  he  strove  to  draw  down  her 
face  for  a  farewell  kiss,  murmuring,  "He  giveth  his 
beloved  rest."  And  when  she  moistened  his  fevered 
lips  with  cold  water,  he  repeated  the  grace  after  meat 
which  he  had  used  from  childhood:  "We  thank  Thee, 
O  Lord,  for  this  and  all  Thy  mercies.  Bless  the 
Church  and  King,  and  grant  us  truth  and  peace  through 
Jesus  Christ  our  Lord."  Once  during  that  afternoon, 
after  trying  vainly  for  some  time  to  make  those  who 
stood  by  his  bed  understand  what  he  would  say,  he 
kept  silent  for  a  few  moments,  and  then,  gathering  all 
his  strength,  uttered  in  a  clear,  loud  voice  those  words 
that  became  a  watchword  of  Methodism,  "The  best 
of  all  is,  God  is  with  us" ;  and  after  a  pause,  lifting  up 
his  arms,  exclaimed  again,  "The  best  of  all  is,  God  is 
with  us!"  Through  the  following  night  he  was  un- 
able to  speak,  but  was  heard  again  and  again  to  mur- 


264  JOHN  WESLEY 

mur  the  first  words  of  his  favorite  hymn,  "I'll  praise, 
I'll  praise."  At  ten  the  next  morning,  Wednesday, 
March  2,  1791,  he  opened  his  eyes,  looked  round  upon 
the  company  of  friends  about  him,  said  distinctly, 
^'Farewell,"  and  was  gone. 

Some  years  before,  Wesley  had  caused  to  be  prepared 
a  vault  behind  the  City  Road  Chapel,  for  the  last  rest- 
ing-place of  himself  and  of  such  of  his  itinerants  as 
should  die  in  London.  In  his  will  he  had  directed  that 
his  body  should  be  borne  to  the  grave  by  six  poor  men, 
and  that  at  his  funeral  there  should  be  "no  hearse,  no 
coach,  no  escutcheon,  no  pomp  except  the  tears  of 
them  that  loved  me."  These  directions  were  followed. 
But  by  the  wish  of  many  of  his  friends,  his  body  was 
carried  into  the  City  Road  Chapel,  the  day  before  in- 
terment, in  his  gown  and  bands,  his  clerical  cap  upon 
his  head,  and  his  Bible  in  his  hand.  It  was  noticed 
that  in  his  last  sleep  the  venerable  face  still  had  that 
expression  of  cheerful  serenity  it  had  worn  through  life. 
As  many  as  ten  thousand  persons  passed  through  the 
chapel  that  day  to  take  a  last  look  upon  the  great  leader 
and  the  loving  friend.  The  throng  was  so  great,  that, 
in  order  to  avoid  the  danger  of  a  crowd  and  confusion, 
it  was  thought  prudent  to  have  the  interment  in  the  early 
morning,  and  to  issue  notices  of  it  only  late  in  the  pre- 
vious evening.  Accordingly,  the  burial  service  was 
held  between  five  and  six  on  the  morning  of  March  9 ; 
but  even  at  that  hour  several  hundred  persons  had 
gathered.  The  burial  office  was  read  by  Rev.  John 
Richardson,  for  thirty  years  one  of  Wesley's  trusted 
preachers;  and  when  he  instinctively  changed  one 
word  in  the  solemn  sentence  of  committal  and  read. 


THE  CLOSING  YEARS  265 

"Forasmuch  as  it  hath  pleased  Almighty  God  to  take 
unto  himself  the  soul  of  our  dear  Father  here  departed," 
the  grief  of  his  hearers  could  no  longer  be  controlled, 
but  broke  out  into  convulsive  sobbing  and  tears. 

The  quaint  inscription  on  the  humble  tomb  of  Wes- 
ley declares  truly,  "This  great  light  arose  (by  the  sin- 
gular providence  of  God),  to  enlighten  these  nations." 
When  one  reflects  to-day  upon  the  magnitude  of  the 
work  he  wrought,  and  considers  the  extent,  the  per- 
manence, and  the  beneficence  of  his  influence,  one  feels 
that  he  might  fitly  have  been  given  a  resting-place  in 
that  great  abbey  which  holds  the  tombs  of  a  score  of 
kings,  and  dust  of  better  men  than  kings.  Yet  it  is 
better  as  it  is.  More  fitting  it  is  that  he  should  rest,  as 
he  does,  in  the  central  roar  of  vast  London,  in  the  throng 
and  surge  of  that  mass  of  common  men  with  whom  and 
for  whom  he  labored,  beside  that  homely  chapel  which 
was  the  centre,  and  is  still  the  monument,  of  that  great 
religious  movement  into  which  he  had  poured  his  life. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  MAN 

It  is  difficult  to  picture  John  Wesley  in  any  other 
character  than  that  of  the  religious  reformer.  True, 
he  conceived  his  work  broadly.  He  took  intelligent 
interest  in  all  political  and  philanthropic  movements. 
To  his  thought,  no  man  was  a  good  Methodist  or  a 
good  Christian,  unless  he  were  a  good  citizen.  But 
his  devotion  to  the  plan  of  duty  he  had  laid  down  for 
himself  was  so  entire  and  so  absorbing,  that  it  left  no 
time  for  leisure,  hardly  for  reflection.  We  never  see 
him  in  an  hour  of  ease.  He  is  always  on  duty.  He 
too  rigidly  denied  himself  those  periods  of  relaxation  in 
which  the  bent  of  a  man's  nature  spontaneously  asserts 
itself.  We  feel,  as  Samuel  Johnson  felt,  that  the  man 
John  Wesley  will  give  us  no  opportunity  to  make  his 
acquaintance.  He  is  always  going  somewhere ;  at  the 
beginning  of  the  month  in  Cornwall,  at  the  end  of  it, 
perhaps,  in  Yorkshire.  It  seems  a  little  difficult  to  get 
upon  easy  terms  with  a  man  who  has  always  preached 
two  hours  ago,  and  is  riding  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  to 
preach  again  to-night.  Moreover,  Wesley  had,  as  we 
have  seen,  no  home,  no  domestic  ties,  none  of  those  in- 
timate relations  in  which  we  may  often  discern  most 
truly  a  man's  real  character.  Certain  traits  of  his  per- 
sonality, indeed,  stand  out  prominently  enough  in  any 
record  of  his  work,  —  his  energy,  his  remarkable  or- 

266 


THE  MAN  267 

ganizing  power,  his  unbending  will,  his  quiet  mastery 
of  men  and  of  circumstances ;  but  to  picture  him,  out- 
side his  work,  in  the  narrower  relations  of  society  and 
friendship,  in  his  habit  as  he  lived,  this  is  not  so  easy. 
Yet  the  reader  who  has  familiarized  himself  with  the 
details  of  Wesley's  career,  and  especially  with  that  re- 
markable record,  the  Journal,  finds  the  image  of  the 
man  which  slowly  shapes  itself  in  his  thought,  not  by 
any  means  altogether  lacking  in  clearness.  First  of  all, 
John  Wesley  was  evidently  a  gentleman.  He  made 
that  impression  upon  every  one ;  upon  men  of  the  world 
and  men  of  religion,  upon  people  of  the  highest  rank 
and  people  of  the  lowest.  He  had  inherited  from  four 
generations  the  instincts  of  the  gentleman,  and  he  car- 
ried into  all  circumstances  whither  his  work  led  him, 
however  narrow  and  humble,  cultivated  tastes  and  gen- 
tle manners.  His  looks,  his  bearing,  the  very  tone  of 
his  voice,  bespoke  a  certain  austere  refinement.  In 
dress  he  was  a  model  of  scrupulous  neatness  and  pre- 
cision. Repeatedly  in  the  record  of  encounters  with 
mobs  he  mentions,  as  if  it  were  a  personal  injury,  that 
some  dirt  was  thrown  on  his  coat  or  hat.  His  one 
proverb  that  everybody  quotes  is,  "Cleanliness  is  next 
to  godliness."  A  little  man,  barely  five  feet  six  inches 
in  height,  and  carrying  no  ounce  of  superfluous  flesh, 
alert  and  yet  exact  in  all  his  movements,  with  a  clear, 
piercing  glance  in  his  hazel  eyes,  there  was  always  a 
certain  distinction  in  his  manner,  that  set  him  apart,  at 
once,  from  the  crowd  of  men.  The  best  description  of 
his  personal  appearance  in  his  later  years  is  that  given 
by  John  Hampson,  one  of  his  preachers,  who  was 
closely  associated  with  Wesley  during  the  last  period 
of  his  life. 


268  JOHN  WESLEY 

"The  figure  of  Mr.  Wesley  was  remarkable.  His 
stature  was  of  the  lowest,  his  habit  of  body  in  every 
period  of  life  the  reverse  of  corpulent,  and  expressive 
of  strict  temperance  and  continual  exercise;  and,  not- 
withstanding his  small  size,  his  step  was  firm,  and  his 
appearance,  till  within  a  few  years  of  his  death,  vigor- 
ous and  muscular.  His  face,  for  an  old  man,  was 
one  of  the  finest  we  have  seen.  A  clear,  smooth  fore- 
head, an  aquiline  nose,  an  eye  the  brightest  and  the 
most  piercing  that  can  be  conceived,  and  a  freshness  of 
complexion  scarcely  ever  to  be  found  at  his  years  and 
impressive  of  the  most  perfect  health,  conspired  to  ren- 
der him  a  venerable  and  interesting  figure.  Few  have 
seen  him  without  being  struck  with  his  appearance; 
and  many,  who  have  been  greatly  prejudiced  against 
him,  have  been  known  to  change  their  opinion  the  mo- 
ment they  were  introduced  into  his  presence.  In  his 
countenance  and  demeanor  there  was  a  cheerfulness 
mingled  with  gravity;  a  sprightliness  which  was  the 
natural  result  of  an  unusual  flow  of  spirits,  and  w^as  yet 
accompanied  with  every  mark  of  the  most  serene  tran- 
quillity. His  aspect,  particularly  in  profile,  had  a 
strong  character  of  acuteness  and  penetration.  In 
dress  he  was  a  pattern  of  neatness  and  simplicity.  A 
narrow,  plaited  stock,  a  coat  with  small  upright  collar, 
no  buckles  at  the  knees,  no  silk  or  velvet  in  any  part  of 
his  apparel,  and  a  head  as  white  as  snow,  gave  an  idea 
of  something  primitive  and  apostolical ;  while  an  air  of 
neatness  and  cleanliness  was  diffused  over  his  whole 
person."  ^ 

Wesley  had  in  very  eminent  degree  two  qualities  that, 
by  common  consent,  mark  the  gentleman  wherever  he 

1  Quoted  in  Watson's  "  Life  of  Wesley,"  Ch.  XIV. 


THE  MAN  269 

be  — courage  and  courtesy.  As  for  his  courage,  his 
life  for  the  twenty  years  after  1739  is  proof  enough  of 
that.  He  was  tried  in  the  face  of  almost  every  sort  of 
danger;  but  no  peril  ever  disturbed  his  absolute  cool- 
ness. His  courtesy  was  of  the  finest  sort,  which  I  take 
to  be  democratic.  He  had  the  respect  of  an  English 
Conservative  for  social  distinctions,  and  he  numbered 
among  his  friends  and  correspondents  men  of  the  high- 
est rank  in  England.  Nor  was  he  by  any  means  in- 
sensible to  the  charm  of  art  and  manners  and  converse 
in  a  truly  refined  society;  and  few  men  were  better 
fitted  by  breadth  of  knowledge  and  keenness  of  intelli- 
gence to  share  in  such  society.  "Love,"  he  used  to 
say,  ''supplies  the  essentials  of  good  breeding  without 
the  aid  of  a  dancing  master."  But  his  life-work  was 
mostly  to  be  done  with  and  for  the  great  middle  class. 
And  in  his  courtesy  he  knew  no  social  distinctions. 
Uniformly  affable,  with  a  gentleness  of  manner  rather 
surprising  when  joined  with  a  temper  so  firm  and  mas- 
terful, his  bearing  was  a  model  of  genuine  courtesy. 
England  had  no  truer  gentleman  in  his  century  than 
John  Wesley.  He  never  thought  it  needful  to  vulgar- 
ize his  message  before  any  audience,  or  to  make  any 
concessions  to  coarseness.  On  the  other  hand,  he 
never  held  himself  above  his  hearers,  or  gave  himself 
any  superior  or  distant  airs.  He  talked  with  a  mechanic 
or  a  tradesman  as  he  talked  with  a  lord.  One  of  his 
preachers  noticed  that  he  was  always  especially  careful 
to  take  off  his  hat  whenever  poor  people  thanked  him 
for  anything.  He  knew  how  to  turn  a  compliment  very 
neatly,  and,  if  need  be,  to  blend  a  rebuke  with  it.  He 
was  lunching  one  day  with  one  of  his  preachers  at  the 
table  of  a  gentleman  whose  daughter  was  noted  for  her 


270  JOHN  WESLEY 

beauty.  The  tactless  preacher,  noticing  that  the  young 
lady  wore  more  rings  than  he  could  approve,  bluntly 
took  her  hand  and  turning  to  Wesley,  said,  "What  do 
you  think  of  this,  Mr.  Wesley,  for  a  Methodist's  hand  ?" 
With  a  quiet  smile  for  the  lady,  Wesley  replied,  "I 
think  the  hand  is  very  beautiful,  sir." 

It  may  be  admitted  that  there  were  some  traits  of  his 
character  that  tended  to  give  it  distinction  and  dignity, 
rather  than  charm.  Something  of  his  early  asceticism 
survived  all  his  days,  and  he  perhaps  denied  himself 
somewhat  too  strictly  the  amenities  of  life.  Then,  too, 
though  it  is  not  true,  as  is  sometimes  said,  that  his 
temperament  was  cold,  he  did  have  it  under  perfect 
control.  He  was  the  most  self-possessed  of  men.  He 
had  no  moods,  no  unregulated  impulses.  He  never  let 
himself  go.  He  was  not  the  man  to  fling  his  inkstand 
at  the  devil.  He  never  hurried,  never  worried ;  his  life 
was  a  pattern  of  order  and  precision.  Now  such  an 
equable  temper  is  doubtless  to  be  coveted,  but  it  cer- 
tainly does  not  give  that  light  and  shade  which  make 
character  interesting.  And  a  man  may  very  possibly 
have  too  much  poise  to  be  a  thoroughly  genial  and 
sympathetic  companion. 

Then,  so  far  as  appears  from  his  life  or  his  writings, 
Wesley  had  very  little  gift  of  humor ;  which  is  a  serious 
privation  in  our  dull-colored  world.  He  was  cheerful 
—  that  came  of  his  temperament  —  and  he  had  a  very 
pretty  wit,  usually  with  a  satiric  edge,  and  shown  best 
in  some  mood  of  criticism  or  controversy.  You  ex- 
pect wit  from  every  man  of  any  eminence  in  the  eigh- 
teenth century.  But  of  that  sympathetic  enjoyment  of 
all  the  manifold  contrasts  and  incongruities  of  life  which 
we  call  humor,  I  think  Wesley  had  very  little.     That 


THE  MAN  271 

usually  implies  a  habit  of  leisurely  observation,  which 
he  would  never  indulge.  It  is  a  pity,  when  one  thinks 
what  an  opportunity  he  had  for  the  exercise  of  that 
fortunate  gift.  The  great  middle  class  of  English  peo- 
ple, the  class  full  of  the  most  varied,  racy,  humorous 
life,  Wesley  knew,  or  might  have  known,  better  than  all 
the  novelists  of  that  century  put  together.  He  lived 
with  them  for  fifty  years,  was  their  friend,  adviser, 
father  confessor.  But  you  would  never  guess  that  he 
saw  the  humors  of  their  life.  There  were  thousands 
of  Mrs.  Poysers  among  those  early  Methodists,  —  there 
must  have  been,  —  or  the  Wesleyan  movement  wouldn't 
have  been  so  sane  and  healthy;  but  Wesley  never 
seems  to  have  met  them.  The  infrequent  passages  of 
conscious  humor  in  the  Journal  almost  always  have 
some  satiric  quality;  it  is  Wesley  the  controversialist 
who  is  speaking.  "I  talked  with  a  warm  man  who 
was  always  very  zealous  for  the  Church  when  he  was 
very  drunk,  and  just  able  to  stammer  out  'No  gown,  no 
crown.'  He  was  quickly  persuaded  that,  whatever  we 
were,  he  was  himself  a  child  of  the  devil.  We  left  him 
full  of  good  resolutions,  which  lasted  several  days." 

Perhaps  a  consciousness  of  such  a  tendency  to  un- 
warranted satire  made  Wesley  a  little  fearful  of  humor. 
When  the  Bishop  of  Exeter  in  his  scandalous  attack 
charged  him  with  having  formed  a  resolution  not  to 
indulge  in  laughter,  Wesley  replied,  "No,  nor  ought  I 
to  indulge  in  it  at  all  if  I  am  conscious  to  myself  that 
it  hurts  my  soul."  But  there  is  a  laughter  that  doeth 
good  like  a  medicine ;  I  do  not  think  a  little  more  of  it 
would  have  hurt  the  soul  of  John  Wesley.  Certainly 
it  might  have  been  good  for  his  writings.  The  Journal, 
as  it  is,  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  books  of  the  cen- 


272  JOHN  WESLEY 

tury ;  but  if  Wesley  could  have  put  into  it  the  humor  of 
that  genial  old  hero,  his  father,  rector  of  Epworth,  the 
Journal  might  have  been,  like  Boswell's  "  Johnson,"  a 
book  that  no  intelligent  man  could  leave  unread.  But 
John  Wesley  was  the  child  of  his  mother;  and  humor 
was  not  one  of  the  many  gifts  the  great  Susannah  Wesley 
could  bequeath  to  her  son. 

As  it  is,  almost  the  only  humorous  passages  in  the 
Journal  are  those  Wesley  himself  never  suspected  of 
humor.  For  instance,  he  set  down  gravely  these  state- 
ments on  the  same  page :  — 

"Saturday,  Feb.  2.  Having  received  a  full  answer 
from  Mr.  P.,  I  was  clearly  resolved  that  I  ought  to 
marry.  For  many  years  I  remained  single  because  I 
believed  I  could  be  more  useful  in  a  single  than  in  a 
married  state.  I  now  as  fully  believed  that  in  my 
present  circumstances  I  might  be  more  useful  in  a 
married  state ;  into  which  I  entered  a  few  days  after." 

*'Wed.  Feb.  6.,  I  met  the  single  men  and  showed 
them  on  how  many  accounts  it  was  good  for  those  who 
had  received  that  gift  from  God  to  remain  single  for 
the  kingdom  of  heaven's  sake."  There  is  no  indica- 
tion that  he  felt  this  homily  to  the  young  preachers 
humorously  ill-timed. 

On  one  occasion  when  he  was  riding  with  a  number 
of  friends  from  one  preaching  place  to  another,  the 
party  was  assailed  by  a  mob,  who  pelted  the  carriage 
with  stones;  but,  says  Wesley,  **a  very  large  gentle- 
woman sat  in  my  lap  and  screened  me,  so  that  nothing 
came  near  me."  What  special  providence  screened  the 
large  gentlewoman,  he  doesn't  say.  First  and  last,  there 
are  a  good  number  of  delightful  passages  like  these, 
in  which,  if  the  humor  is  intentional,  it  is  "  extra  dry." 


THE  MAN  273 

It  is  not  exaggeration  to  call  Wesley  a  scholar.  Not, 
indeed,  that  he  could  present-  the  modern  creden- 
tials of  scholarship.  He  was  not  deeply  versed  in 
any  special  department  of  knowledge.  He  discov- 
ered no  new  scientific  or  historic  facts ;  he  wrote  none 
of  those  dry  books  of  learning  which  nobody  ever 
reads.  But  he  was  a  scholar  of  the  old  school  —  a  man 
of  literary  tastes,  of  broad  outlook,  and  genuine  culture. 
He  could  stand  Macaulay's  test  of  a  scholar  —  he 
could  read  Greek  with  his  feet  on  the  fender.  It  is 
easy  to  see  in  the  Journal  how  keen  was  his  interest 
in  all  things  of  the  intellect  and  the  imagination,  not 
only  in  theology  and  philosophy,  but  in  history,  poetry, 
art.  To  use  one  of  Matthew  Arnold's  pet  phrases,  he 
wanted  to  know  the  best  that  had  been  thought  and 
done  in  the  world.  Never  was  so  tireless  a  reader, 
though  he  spent  little  time  within  the  four  walls  of  a 
library.  Whenever  he  travelled,  whether  on  horse- 
back or  by  coach,  a  book  was  always  open  before  him. 
Nobody  could  adopt  more  truly  Cicero's  famous  praise 
of  books,  '^Delectant  domi,  non  impediunt  joris,  per- 
noctant  nobiscum,  peregrinantur,  rusticantur.''^  Books 
were,  indeed,  almost  his  only  companions  in  his  lonely 
and  wandering  life.  In  his  constant  and  wearisome 
labors,  mostly  with  and  for  people  of  scanty  ideas  and 
narrow  horizon,  he  found  refreshment  and  inspira- 
tion in  the  world's  masterpieces  of  literature.  One 
week  he  has  read  again  Homer's  "  Odyssey,"  and  breaks 
out  in  a  fine  burst  of  admiration  for  the  charm  of  its 
imagery  and  the  nobility  of  its  morals;  another  day, 
while  riding  to  Newcastle,  he  reads  the  tenth  book  of 
the  "Iliad" ;  another  time  it  is  a  book  of  the  "^neid" 
or  the  "Letters"  of  Cicero.     He  was  familiar  not  only 


274  JOHN  WESLEY 

with  the  great  works  of  his  own  literature,  but  with  those 
of  the  Greek,  Latin,  Itahan,  French,  German,  and  he 
had  a  good  reading  knowledge  of  Spanish.  Among 
the  authors  of  classic  rank  whom  he  mentions  in  the 
Journal  —  and  that  not  merely  by  a  word  of  quotation 
or  an  incidental  reference,  but  in  a  way  to  indicate  that 
he  was  actually  reading  them  at  the  time  or  had  long 
been  familiar  with  them  —  are  Homer,  Plato,  Xeno- 
phon,  Demosthenes,  Anacreon ;  Lucian,  Virgil,  Cicero, 
Juvenal,  Horace ;  Ariosto,  Tasso ;  Voltaire,  Rousseau ; 
Shakespeare,  Milton,  Cowley,  Dryden,  Locke,  Pope, 
Swift,  Prior,  Young,  Thomson,  Gray,  Sterne,  Johnson, 
Ossian.  And  this  is  by  no  means  a  complete  list.  His 
own  incidental  comments  upon  books  and  authors  are 
always  independent  and  often  very  shrewd  and  curious. 
In  his  tastes  he  was  emphatically  a  man  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century;  but  he  accepted  the  mandate  of  no 
critical  authority. 

As  to  the  shelfful  of  volumes,  some  thirty  in  number, 
that  he  himself  wrote,  most  of  them  are  doubtless 
destined  to  oblivion.  He  was  not  raised  up  to  write 
books.  There  is  a  virile  strength  and  plainness  in 
some  of  his  sermons  which  many  readers  will  say 
entitle  them  to  rank  with  the  works  of  Sherlock  or 
Tillotson.  But  sermons,  at  best,  are  not  a  very  vital 
form  of  literature,  and  it  is  to  be  doubted  whether 
Wesley's  will  find  many  readers  outside  of  those  Method- 
ists who  still  prize  them  as  a  body  of  sound  doctrine. 
The  truth  is,  Wesley  had  not  that  union  of  imagination 
and  passion  and  that  special  gift  of  phrase  which  make 
writing  literature.  He  was  rather  afraid  of  anything 
that  might  seem  like  affectation  or  ornament ;  his  own 
style,  in  sermon,  essay,  or  pamphlet,  is  clear,  direct, 


THE  MAN 


275 


and  entirely  plain.  His  model  was  Swift,  in  whose 
style,  he  says,  all  the  properties  of  a  good  writer  meet ; 
but,  unlike  Swift,  he  cannot  illumine  his  page  with 
constant  play  of  illustration,  indignant,  pathetic,  or 
humorous.  Wesley  only  speaks  right  on.  His  critical 
taste  in  matters  of  phrase  was  severe,  almost  finical. 
His  nicer  judgment  corrected  many  a  careless  or  ex- 
travagant line  in  the  hymns  of  his  brother  Charles ;  and 
his  own  translations  of  the  Moravian  hymns,  though 
sometimes  bald,  are  always  dignified. 

One  of  Wesley's  books,  however,  is  immortal.  Like 
so  many  men  in  those  days  when  the  world  was  not  in 
such  a  hurry,  he  kept  a  journal.  Indeed,  he  was  so 
thoroughly  convinced  of  the  value  of  this  practice,  that 
he  used  to  enjoin  it  upon  all  his  preachers,  and  the  best 
of  their  efforts  were  sometimes  honored  with  a  place  in 
his  Arminian  Magazine.  Wesley's  own  Journal  cer- 
tainly does  not  lack  much  of  being  the  most  interesting 
social  document  of  the  eighteenth  century.  For  it  is 
not  so  much  the  story  of  Wesley's  inner  life  as  the 
record  of  his  dealings  with  other  people.  This  precise 
and  masterful  little  man  in  dark  clothing  goes  riding 
up  and  down  the  country  for  forty  years,  and  he  has 
eyes  that  open  outward.  He  knows  all  sorts  and  con- 
ditions of  men ;  he  is  interested  in  all  things  that  go  to 
make  up  the  daily  life  of  men.  He  examines  a  society 
of  colliers  in  some  grimy  little  Yorkshire  village,  on  the 
state  of  their  souls,  and  then  he  goes  to  his  room  and 
writes  a  letter  to  Lord  Dartmouth  or  Lord  North  on 
the  state  of  the  nation.  He  knows  this  England ;  for 
plain  people  talk  with  him.  They  tell  him  not  only  of 
their  religious  doubts  and  fears  and  joys;  they  tell 
him  of  the  injustice  of  the  squire  and  the  arrogance  of 


2  76  JOHN  WESLEY 

the  parson,  of  the  drunkenness  at  the  pubhc  house,  of 
the  failure  of  the  crops  and  the  high  price  of  bread,  of 
the  burden  of  the  taxes  and  the  unpopularity  of  the 
ministry.  Boswell  and  Walpole  will  introduce  you  to 
the  literary  and  the  fashionable  folk  of  that  century; 
but  if  you  want  to  know  that  great,  pushing  English 
middle  class,  coarse  often  almost  to  brutality,  yet 
serious  and  inclined  to  be  religious,  the  men  who 
really  did  the  work  and  paid  the  debts  and  fought  the 
battles  of  England,  — if  you  want  to  know  these  men, 
read  Wesley's  Journal.  You  will  see  them  as  they 
appeared  to  one  bent,  first  of  all,  on  saving  their  souls; 
but  you  will  see  them  as  they  were.  For  here  the  sturdy 
simplicity  of  Wesley's  style  is  admirable.  In  its  homely 
realism  the  Journal  is  as  vivid  as  Hogarth. 

Only  such  portions  of  the  Journal  have  been  printed 
as  seemed  to  Wesley  good  for  edification.  The  com- 
plete manuscript  still  exists,  in  twenty-six  bound 
volumes,  and  it  were  greatly  to  be  wished  that  it  might 
be  given  to  the  public  entire.  It  is  certain  that  the  un- 
published parts  must  contain  matter  of  great  interest, 
both  for  the  fuller  revelation  of  Wesley's  own  character, 
and  for  the  illustration  of  the  society  and  religion  of  his 
day.     And  we  may  be  quite  sure  that  — 

"  Whatever  record  leap  to  light 
He  never  shall  be  shamed." 

As  a  thinker,  Wesley  was  the  child  of  his  age.  He 
had  all  the  eighteenth-century  confidence  in  sense  and 
reason.  Although  it  was  his  mission  to  bring  new 
warmth  and  light  to  the  religious  life  of  England,  yet 
he  shared  the  general  distrust  of  enthusiasm;  of  any 
conduct  that  could  not  be  defended  by  reason.     After 


THE  MAN  277 

he  emerged  from  the  early  influence  of  the  mysticism 
of  Law  and  the  quietism  of  the  Moravians,  he  had 
little  patience  with  any  religious  faith  that  could  not 
give  a  clear  account  of  itself.  The  title  of  his  famous 
apology  indicates  exactly  his  attitude  toward  all  serious 
criticism,  *' An  Appeal  to  Men  of  Reasonand  Religion." 
He  always  professed  himself  ready  to  abandon  any 
position  and  disclaim  any  teaching  that  could  not 
safely  make  such  appeal.  We  shall  remember  his 
exclamation  quoted  on  a  previous  page,  ''The  re- 
proach of  Christ  I  am  willing  to  bear;  but  not  the 
reproach  of  enthusiasm  —  if  I  can  help  it!"  Not  in- 
frequently in  the  Journal  he  expresses  dissatisfaction 
with  some  members  of  his  societies,  —  not  on  account  of 
irregularities  in  their  conduct  or  lack  of  pronounced 
emotional  experience,  but  because  their  faith  seems  so 
unintelligent.  A  great  part  of  his  thinking  and  writing 
was  prompted  by  the  desire  to  give  a  clear  rationale 
of  the  religious  life.  Himself  a  logician  from  the  cradle, 
he  was  accustomed  all  his  life  long  to  give  reasoned 
justification  for  his  belief  and  his  conduct;  and  he 
insisted  that  other  people  should  do  the  same.  Mr. 
Lecky  hardly  puts  it  too  strongly  when  he  says  that 
Wesley  manifested  at  all  times  and  on  all  subjects  an 
even  exaggerated  passion  for  reasoning.  No  contro- 
versialist of  the  century  had  more  respect  for  an  argu- 
ment. In  his  own  mental  processes,  as  in  his  outward 
habits,  he  had  schooled  himself  to  order  and  method. 
His  ideas  were  as  carefully  arranged  as  the  papers  on  his 
writing-table.  His  sermons,  read  to-day,  without  the 
strange  power  of  his  voice  and  presence,  may  seem  to 
lack  breadth  and  color;  he  sticks  narrowly  to  his  sub- 
ject, and  he  has  not  the  imagination  to  illumine  or  to 


278  JOHN  WESLEY 

illustrate  it.  But  he  is  always  terse,  consecutive,  logi- 
cal. It  is  evident  that  he  is  not  striving  to  awaken  any 
unintelligent  feelings;  his  speech  could  never  have 
been  sensational  in  manner  or  hazy  in  thought. 

It  may  be  said  with  truth  that  Wesley  was  a  little 
too  deferential  to  a  syllogism.  He  forgot  that  on  most 
matters  of  importance  our  conclusions  are  not  the 
result  of  a  single  line  of  argument,  but  the  resultant  of 
many  lines;  nay,  in  many  cases,  cannot  be  decided 
exclusively  by  argument,  but  rather  by  sentiment  or 
instinct.  His  very  confidence  in  logic  made  him  over- 
ready  to  revise  or  reverse  any  accredited  opinions  that 
seemed  to  be  contradicted  by  a  correct  course  of  argu- 
ment. On  historical  and  scientific  questions  he  was 
liable  to  be  the  prey  of  the  last  plausibly  reasoned  book 
he  had  read.  We  have  seen  how  easily  he  was  con- 
vinced by  Johnson's  ''Taxation  no  Tyranny."  He 
reads  "An  Enquiry  into  the  Proofs  of  the  Charges 
Commonly  Advanced  against  Mary  Queen  of  Scots," 
and  he  is  convinced  that  Mary  was  an  innocent  martyr 
and  Elizabeth  "as  just  and  merciful  as  Nero,  and  as 
good  a  Christian  as  Mahomet."  He  reads  Woodrow's 
"History  of  the  Sufferings  of  the  Church  in  Scotland," 
and  he  pronounces  Charles  II  a  monster,  and  Bloody 
Mary  of  England  "a  lamb,  a  mere  dove  in  comparison 
with  him"  — a  judgment  about  equally  unjust  to  both 
monarchs.  A  tract  by  a  Dr.  Wilson  on  the  "Circula- 
tion of  the  Blood"  persuades  him  that  the  heart  is  a 
mere  vessel  to  receive  the  blood,  "which  moves  through 
its  channels  on  the  mere  principle  of  suction,  assisted 
by  the  ethereal  fire." 

Yet  this  easy  surrender  to  a  line  of  clear  reasoning 
is  a  fault  that  implies  some  important  virtues.     John 


THE  MAN  279 

Wesley  was  the  most  candid  of  men.  Seldom  has  a 
great  religious  reformer  been  so  little  of  a  dogmatist, 
or  shown  so  little  stubborn  persistence  in  his  own  views, 
simply  because  they  were  his  own.  And  this  is  the 
more  remarkable  when  it  is  remembered  that  this 
openness  to  persuasion  was  joined  with  a  will  as  in- 
flexible as  iron.  Moreover,  with  his  direct  and  logical 
cast  of  thought,  it  was  impossible  that  his  opinions 
should  be  doubtful  or  befogged;  that  he  should  let 
his  emotions  run  away  with  his  reason ;  that  he  should 
ever  maintain  at  the  same  time  two  logically  inconsist- 
ent opinions. 

It  was  a  worse  fault  in  his  thinking  that,  in  his  liking 
for  a  good  course  of  syllogism,  Wesley  sometimes  neg- 
lected to  inquire  very  carefully  what  had  been  put  into 
the  premises  of  his  syllogism.  He  was  curious  and 
inquisitive,  but  he  had  not  in  any  high  degree  the  gift 
of  scientific  observation.  Nor  did  he  reason  from 
facts  to  laws  and  causes  very  correctly;  his  deduction 
was  much  better  than  his  induction.  He  has  been 
often  charged  with  credulity,  and  not  without  some  good 
reason.  The  charge  may  easily  be  exaggerated.  Natu- 
rally he  was  sceptical  rather  than  credulous ;  he  was 
not  usually  ready  to  accept  facts  on  dubious  testimony. 
He  shared  the  critical  temper  of  his  age.  His  comments 
on  the  legendary  element  in  early  history  and  on  con- 
temporary books  of  travel,  as  one  of  his  biographers 
remarks,^  often  anticipate  the  criticism  of  recent 
students.  Moreover,  some  of  the  incidents  often  cited 
from  the  Journal  as  examples  of  his  credulity,  seem 
rather  proofs  of  consistency;  as  when  he  expresses 
gratitude  that  a  cloud  slipped  over  the  sun  just  as  its 

1  J.  H.  Rigg,  "  The  Living  Wesley,"  p.  240. 


28o  JOHN  WESLEY 

rays  became  intolerably  hot  on  his  bare  head,  or  that 
the  rain  suddenly  ceased  as  he  was  about  to  address 
an  audience  of  several  thousand  people  in  the  open  air. 
To  assert  dogmatically  that  these  coincidences  were 
proof  of  special  divine  interposition  in  his  behalf, 
would  certainly  have  been  arrogant;  but  Wesley  did 
not  assert  that.  On  the  other  hand,  if  a  man  really 
believed  —  what  many  profess  and  do  not  believe  ■ — 
that  there  are  no  accidents  whatever  in  the  government 
of  the  universe,  he  may  as  reasonably  deny  accident  to 
trifles  like  these  as  to  the  catastrophe  that  engulfs  a 
city.  Before  a  universal  Providence,  distinctions  of 
great  and  small  vanish.  Most  of  us  act  as  if  we  thought 
the  Almighty,  like  the  physician  in  the  next  street,  did 
not  bother  himself  about  our  little  ailments  and  vexa- 
tions, but  might  be  induced  to  take  concern  in  a  serious 
case  of  typhoid  or  a  critical  surgical  operation  —  which 
I  take  to  be  a  kind  of  pagan  notion. 

"  When  the  loose  mountain  trembles  from  on  high 
Will  gravitation  cease  as  you  go  by  ?  " 

asks  Pope,  with  an  air  of  triumph.  Why,  no;  yet  if 
gravitation  be  only  an  exercise  of  that  omniscient  Will 
without  whose  knowledge  not  a  sparrow  falls,  I  may 
not  irrationally  hope  that  gravitation  will  wait  till  I 
am  past  —  and  be  thankful. 

But  there  are  other  and  better  grounds  for  this 
charge  of  credulity  against  Wesley.  Credulous  in  one 
direction,  he  certainly  was.  All  his  life  long  he  gave 
too  easy  assent  to  anything  that  savored  of  the  preter- 
natural, to  stories  of  dreams,  visions,  second-sight, 
ghosts,  witchcraft.  His  interest  in  such  matters  was 
abnormally  excited  when  he  was  a  boy  by  the  noises 
in  his  father's  rectory.     Those  mysterious  knockings 


THE  MAN  281 

and  trampings  and  lifting  of  latches  and  moving  of 
furniture  fixed  in  the  mind  of  young  Wesley  an  unal- 
terable belief  in  unseen  beings  that  may  invade  our 
human  life.  His  rational  temper  was  not  content  to 
leave  any  mystery  unexplained ;  and  he  found  no  other 
explanation.  He  always  showed  a  curiosity,  not  mor- 
bid but  eager,  in  any  accounts  of  the  presence  or  in- 
fluence of  invisible  powers.  He  emphatically  expressed 
his  opinion  that  to  give  up  witchcraft  was  in  effect  to 
give  up  the  Bible  —  a  dilemma  that  I  trust  we  need  not 
accept.  From  the  Journal  might  be  gathered  an  ad- 
mirable collection  of  tales  of  wonder,  varying  from  the 
simplest  cases  of  thought  transference  to  the  most 
delightfully  creepy  ghost  stories.  A  few  of  them  are 
too  lurid  to  be  convincing;  but  the  most  of  them,  it 
must  be  admitted,  are  well  enough  attested  to  deserve 
examination  by  the  Society  for  Psychical  Research.  In 
nearly  every  instance  they  were  doubtless  believed  by 
the  good  people  who  told  them.  Wesley  himself, 
though  often  careful  to  say  he  does  not  impose  his  own 
belief  upon  any  one  else,  certainly  did  not  always 
make  a  careful  scrutiny  of  these  tales  before  accepting 
them.  He  gives  one  particularly  astounding  —  and 
entertaining  —  narrative,  ten  pages  long,  of  a  young 
woman  who  was  visited  by  the  ghost  of  her  uncle  and 
by  a  considerable  number  of  other  spirits,  whose 
chamber,  in  fact,  seems  to  have  been  a  kind  of  popular 
resort  for  all  her  departed  friends;  and  to  this  tale 
Wesley  fits  a  very  odd  series  of  comments,  queries,  and 
inferences  of  his  own  as  to  the  behavior  of  the  ghosts, 
,  which  would  hardly  satisfy  the  requirements  of  strict 
scientific  investigation.^ 

^  Journal,  May  25,  1768. 


282  JOHN  WESLEY 

We  may  at  least  credit  him  with  being  slow  to  admit 
any  evidence  of  the  marvellous  that  had  not  come 
under  his  personal  observation.  He  was  interested  in 
the  literature  of  the  preternatural,  but  he  was  not 
generally  convinced  by  it.  Glanvill's  "Saducismus 
Triumphatus"  he  thought  mostly  "stark  nonsense"; 
while  as  to  Swedenborg,  he  concludes  that  he  was 
''one  of  the  most  ingenious,  lively,  entertaining  madmen 
that  ever  put  pen  to  paper."  And  before  we  condemn 
Wesley  in  too  superior  fashion  for  his  credulity,  we 
may  remember  that  the  most  hard-headed  philosopher 
of  that  age,  Samuel  Johnson,  shared  the  belief  in 
ghosts,  and  could  make  an  appointment  to  meet  one 
in  the  crypt  of  St.  Sepulchre's  Church.  We  may  re- 
member, too,  that  there  is  a  well-attested  body  of  phe- 
nomena not  yet  explained,  which  it  may  not  be  worth 
while  to  investigate,  but  which  candid  men  do  not  deny 
with  contempt.  Wesley's  interest  in  such  matters,  in 
fact,  is  perhaps  not  exactly  a  proof  of  credulity,  but 
rather  of  a  singular  curiosity  with  reference  to  whatever 
lies  on  the  border-land  of  experience.  One  thinks  of 
it  as  an  extension  beyond  scientific  limits,  and  not 
guarded  by  any  scientific  temper  or  methods,  of  that 
intense  interest  in  all  unfamiliar  physical  facts  which  led 
him  to  read  with  avidity  the  records  of  chemical  and 
physical  experiment,  and  to  follow  eagerly  the  new  sci- 
ence of  electricity.  Most  of  all,  we  must  insist  that  this 
vein  of  credulity  with  reference  to  the  preternatural  did 
not  vitiate  his  thinking  on  other  matters,  and  that  he  did 
not  allow  it  to  sanction  any  vagaries  of  conduct  either 
in  himself  or  any  one  else.  It  might  have  been  thought 
that  such  an  interest  in  Wesley  would  have  encouraged 
superstition  in  his  followers ;  but  there  is  no  proof  that 


THE   MAN  283 

it  did.  For,  after  all,  we  must  come  back  to  the  as- 
sertion that  Wesley's  nature  was  at  bottom  rational  — 
not  speculative,  but  practical.  He  might  give  rein  to 
his  conjecture  in  the  realm  of  the  unknown,  and  ex- 
plain what  he  thought  strange  facts  by  wilder  theories ; 
but  all  his  operative  and  efficient  beliefs,  like  a  child  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  he  brought  rigidly  to  the  tests 
of  sense  and  conduct. 

In  one  other  respect,  Wesley's  character  is  curiously 
illustrative  of  the  spirit  of  the  age.  Everybody  knows 
that  in  England,  as  everywhere  else  in  Europe,  at 
about  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  domi- 
nant critical  reason,  largely  aristocratic  and  scholarly, 
began  to  be  modified  by  a  romantic  sentimentality, 
largely  democratic  and  popular.  The  era  of  Pope  and 
Voltaire  was  passing;  the  era  of  Rousseau  was  begin- 
ning. In  England  this  democratic  and  sentimental 
impulse  manifests  itself  in  various  wavs.  Literature, 
emerging  from  the  clubs  and  drawing-rooms  of  Queen 
Anne  society,  throws  off  the  restraints  of  convention  to 
gain  freer  utterance  for  personal  feeling.  In  poetry, 
melancholy  becomes  a  favorite  motive,  sometimes  gentle 
and  chastened,  as  in  Goldsmith  and  Gray,  sometimes 
rhetorical  and  sonorous,  as  in  Young  and  Blair.  In 
fiction.  Fielding  well  represents  English  common 
sense;  but  Fielding's  depictions  of  burly,  red-blooded 
life,  healthy  though  coarse,  were  far  less  popular  than 
Richardson's  portrayals  of  tortured,  long-suffering 
sentiment.  And  Sterne,  the  apostle  of  sentimentality, 
was,  for  a  time,  a  greater  favorite  than  either.  Popular 
religious  literature,  appealing  to  a  less  cultivated  taste, 
often  shows  this  sentimentality  in  its  most  dishevelled 
form.     The  most  widely  circulated  book  in  England  at 


284  JOHN  WESLEY 

the  middle  of  the  century  was  not  poetry  or  fiction, 
but  the  "Meditations  among  the  Tombs"  of  Wesley's 
college  friend,  James  Hervey.  The  reader  of  to-day 
who  looks  into  it  will  probably  be  surprised  to  find 
it  the  most  rhetorical  of  books,  written  in  a  tone  of 
unctuous  pathos,  very  unedifying. 

Now  it  is  curious  to  find  in  Wesley  this  strain  of 
sentimentalism  grafted  upon  an  essentially  critical 
temperament.  Of  course  we  shall  not  expect  from  his 
dignified  self-possession  anything  extravagant  or  un- 
restrained ;  but  with  his  precise  and  reasoning  temper 
there  certainly  was  combined  a  strongly  contrasted  vein 
of  sentiment.  This  may  be  seen  in  the  series  of  attach- 
ments which  ended  in  his  unlucky  marriage;  but  a 
more  interesting  and  equally  convincing  proof  of  it  is 
found  in  the  comments  upon  books  and  authors  with 
which  the  Journal  abounds.  Some  of  these  are  very 
suggestive  of  the  trend  of  his  taste.  He  shared  the 
universal  and  just  admiration  of  his  age  for  Pope; 
but  significantly  the  one  poem  of  Pope  with  which  he 
was  most  familiar  was  not  pointed  satire  or  epigram- 
matic philosophy,  but  Pope's  one  piece  of  elegant  senti- 
mentalism, the  "Elegy  on  an  Unfortunate  Lady." 
This  he  quotes  again  and  again,  and  remarks  once  that 
it  has  long  been  a  favorite  of  his.  It  was  not  Pope, 
however,  that,  of  all  the  Queen  Anne  men,  Wesley 
admired  most,  but  rather  Prior.  He  quotes  him  re- 
peatedly in  the  Journal ;  and  when  Samuel  Johnson,  in 
the  newly  issued  "Lives  of  the  Poets,"  spoke  in  terms 
of  depreciation  both  of  Prior's  character  and  of  his 
verse,  Wesley,  then  in  his  eightieth  year,  came  to  the 
defence  of  his  favorite  poet  in  a  most  spirited  paper.* 

1  The  Armmia7i  Magazine,  1782. 


THE  MAN  285 

Prior,  he  asserts,  was  not  half  so  bad  a  man  as  his 
critics  have  painted  him ;  while  as  to  the  Chloe  of  the 
charming  lyrics,  who  had  been  represented  as  no  better 
than  she  should  be,  Wesley  declares  on  the  authority 
of  his  brother  Samuel,  who  knew  her  well,  that  she 
was  an  estimable  Miss  Taylor  of  Westminster,  who 
refused  the  advances  of  the  poet  while  he  was  living, 
and  spent  hours  weeping  at  his  tomb  after  he  was  dead. 
Johnson's  criticism  of  Prior's  verse  provokes  his  warm- 
est protest.  The  great  critic  had  said  it  lacks  feeling. 
"Does  it?"  cries  Wesley,  "then  I  know  not  with  what 
eyes  or  with  what  heart  a  man  must  read  it."  Prior's 
"Henry  and  Emma,"  a  rather  frigid  version  of  the 
"Nut-brown  Maid"  story,  he  avers  to  be  a  poem  that 
"no  man  of  sensibility  can  read  without  tears."  Simi- 
lar expressions  of  preference  for  the  sentimental  and 
romantic  elements  in  literature  are  very  frequent 
throughout  the  Journal.  Of  Thomson's  poetry,  for  in- 
stance, he  had  never  thought  very  highly  till  he  read  his 
romantic  tragedy  of  "Edward  and  Eleonora,"  by  which, 
he  says,  he  was  much  impressed.  Beattie,  whose  almost 
forgotten  work,  "The  Minstrel,"  is  an  attempt  to  give 
a  romantic  flavor  to  the  warmed-over  philosophy  of 
Pope,  he  pronounces  one  of  the  best  of  poets  —  an 
opinion  shared,  it  is  said,  by  King  George  HI.  Home's 
sentimental  and  declamatory  drama  of  "Douglas," 
now  remembered  only  by  the  lines  — 

"  My  name  is  Nerval :  on  the  Grampian  hills 
My  father  feeds  his  flocks," 

he  is  astonished  to  find  ''one  of  the  most  excellent 
dramas  I  ever  read"  —  and  he  had  read  a  good  many. 
The  grandiose  declamation  of  "Ossian,"  which  excited 
only  the  contempt  of  Johnson,  he  pronounces  deeply 


286  JOHN  WESLEY 

pathetic,  ''little  inferior  to  Homer  and  Virgil,  and  in 
some  respects  superior  to  both."  After  reading  Vol- 
taire's ''Henriade,"  which  he  praises  generously,  he 
remarks  that  the  French  language,  for  all  its  finish  and 
precision,  lacks  pathos  and  heartiness,  and  is  no  more 
to  be  compared  with  the  German  or  Spanish  than  is  a 
bagpipe  to  an  organ.  Of  contemporary  fiction,  there  is 
no  evidence  that  he  ever  read  either  Fielding  or  Richard- 
son, but  it  is  significant  to  note  his  familiarity  with  that 
incarnation  of  sentimentalism,  Sterne.  Of  the  "  Senti- 
mental Journey"  he  writes,  "'Sentimental'  —  what  is 
that  ?  It  is  not  English :  he  might  as  well  say  '  continen- 
tal.' It  is  not  sense.  It  conveys  no  determinate  idea. 
Yet  this  nonsensical  word  is  now  become  a  fashionable 
one.  However,  the  book  agrees  well  with  the  title,  for  one 
is  as  queer  as  the  other.  For  oddity,  uncouthness,  and 
unlikeness  to  all  the  world  beside,  I  suppose  the  writer 
to  be  without  a  rival"  —  an  account  so  very  just  as  to 
make  it  certain  he  had  read  the  book.  The  "Tristram 
Shandy,"  too,  he  must  have  read,  for  he  points  an 
argument  in  one  of  his  pamphlets  by  an  adroit  reference 
to  it.  He  never  wrote  a  novel  himself,  —  he  wrote 
almost  everything  else,  —  but  he  did,  as  stated  in  a 
previous  chapter,  revise  and  abridge  one  that  he  greatly 
admired,  and  recommended  it  to  Methodist  readers. 
Henry  Brooke's  "Fool  of  Quality"  would  doubtless 
be  voted  insipid  by  the  modern  novel  reader;  but 
Wesley  was  fascinated  by  its  profuse  sentiment.  "The 
greatest  excellence  in  this  book,"  says  he,  "is  that  it 
continually  strikes  at  the  heart.  The  strokes  are  so 
fine,  so  natural  and  affecting,  that  I  know  not  who  can 
read  it  with  tearless  eyes."  Most  readers  of  to-day 
will   be   able   to  control   their  emotions  through   the 


THE  MAN  287 

perusal;  but  Wesley's  remark  is  another  of  the  many 
proofs  scattered  through  the  Journal,  that  his  usual 
good  judgment  was  always  liable  to  be  misled  by  this 
indulgence  to  sentiment.  Possibly,  however,  this  sym- 
pathy with  the  trend  of  his  age  was  one  cause  of  the 
vast  influence  of  Wesley;  he  had  the  Zeitgeist  on  his 
side. 

But  all  this  does  not  explain  Wesley's  wonderful 
mastery  over  men.  For  he  was  born  to  command,  if 
ever  man  was  —  a  leader  and  ruler  from  his  earliest 
years.  And  rule  he  did,  as  a  great  religious  reformer 
seldom  has.  The  whole  vast  organization  of  Method- 
ism depended  upon  him  as  its  source  and  centre.  He  i 
was  absolute  commander  of  the  army  of  itinerant 
preachers;  he  was  the  judge  who  finally  decided  all 
cases  of  conduct  or  discipline;  he  had  the  power  to 
admit  or  to  exclude  every  member  of  every  Methodist 
society  in  the  United  Kingdom.  With  literal  truth  he 
might  have  adopted  the  language  of  the  centurion,  "I 
say  unto  this  man.  Go,  and  he  goeth ;  and  to  another, 
Come,  and  he  cometh ;  and  to  my  servant.  Do  this,  and 
he  doeth  it."  And  this  authority  was  quietly  assumed 
by  Wesley,  and  accepted  by  the  thousands  who  loved 
and  obeyed  him,  as  a  matter  of  course,  a  natural  and 
inevitable  result  of  their  relation.  Wesley  apparently 
made  no  effort  to  secure  or  to  maintain  it.  When,  now 
and  then,  a  man  revolted  against  his  leadership,  such 
malcontents  found  it  necessary  to  leave  the  societies. 
But  the  bitterness  of  the  few  who  rebelled  and  the 
loyalty  of  the  thousands  who  obeyed  alike  attest  Wesley's 
consummate  power  of  command.  Such  gift  of  personal 
sway  is  granted  to  but  few  men.  Impelled  by  selfish 
motives,  it  might  have  made  a  leader  eminent  in  poli- 


288  JOHN  WESLEY 

tics  or  in  war.  In  fact,  it  is  probably  safe  to  say  that 
of  all  the  great  generals  in  the  Europe  of  his  century, 
no  one  could  claim  such  an  army  of  devoted  followers 
as  this  man  John  Wesley. 

What  gave  him  such  power?  Tireless  and  unselfish 
devotion  to  the  welfare  of  men  will  secure  their  respect, 
often  their  love ;  not  always  their  obedience.  Doubtless 
no  analysis  can  explain  the  secret  of  personality;  but 
one  essential  there  is  without  which  such  mastery  over 
men  as  Wesley's  is  impossible.  He  had  an  iron  will. 
Quiet,  soft-spoken,  gentle  in  manner,  holding  himself 
perfectly  in  command,  there  was  yet  a  strange  domi- 
nance in  his  personality.  Even  his  friends  sometimes 
stood  in  a  certain  awe  of  him,  and  seldom  ventured  to 
oppose  his  wishes.  There  was  nothing  imperious  or 
arrogant  in  his  temper,  but  he  seemed  to  overcome 
opposition  by  sheer  force  of  will.  He  could  overawe  a 
mob  with  the  still  and  searching  look  of  his  eye.  A 
recent  thoughtful  writer  on  religious  phenomena^  sug- 
gests that  the  remarkable  effects  of  his  preaching  — 
which,  unlike  Whitefield's,  was  not  sensational  either  in 
theme  or  in  manner  —  may  have  been  due  in  part  to 
this  power  of  intense  personal  will  which  we  do  not  yet 
clearly  understand. 

Certain  it  is  that  this  concentrated  and  persistent 
power  of  will  largely  explains  the  success  of  all  Wesley's 
practical  plans.  He  is  often  credited,  and  justly,  with 
remarkable  powers  of  organization.  Yet  he  invented 
little.  His  whole  system  was  not  devised  beforehand ; 
it  was  not  a  scheme,  but  a  growth.  Almost  every  one 
of  its  features,  as  we  have  seen  in  tracing  its  history^ 

^  F.  M.  Davenport,  "  Primitive  Traits  in  Religious  Revivals,"  pp. 
168-169. 


THE  MAN  289 

was  adopted  by  Wesley  as  a  means  ready  to  his  hand  for 
the  transmission  or  extension  of  his  own  superintend- 
ence. It  is  not  the  Wesleyan  system,  but  Wesley  that 
calls  for  our  admiration.  Almost  any  organization 
may  be  efficient,  if  you  have  a  powerful  man  to  adminis- 
ter it.  His  plan  once  formed,  Wesley  was  as  steadfast 
as  the  sun  and  as  sure  as  the  seasons.  He  was  never 
discouraged,  never  impatient  at  the  slowness  of  re- 
sults. There  was  no  vacillation  or  reversal  in  his  pur- 
pose, nothing  spasmodic  or  fitful  in  his  activity;  but 
for  fifty  years,  with  fixed,  unswerving  will,  he  wrought 
out  his  mission.  He  met  every  exigency  as  it  arose, 
adapted  old  means  to  new  ends,  or,  when  convinced 
that  it  was  necessary,  vv^ith  quick  decision,  though  re- 
luctantly, cut  whatever  tie  of  tradition  thwarted  or 
fettered  the  work  he  felt  called  to  do.  Where  else  can 
there  be  found  a  religious  movement  with  results  so 
widespread  and  permanent,  directed  so  entirely  by 
one  man,  without  influential  friends  and  in  spite  of 
formidable  opposition,  and  bearing  the  impress  of  his 
personality  in  all  its  doctrines,  its  methods,  and  its 
spirit?  To  Wesley's  keen,  practical  sagacity,  driven 
by  such  quiet  energy  of  will,  nothing  was  impossible. 
He  had  the  gift  to  achieve. 

But  it  is  the  peculiar  glory  of  Wesley  that  this  domi- 
nating will  was  joined  with  an  almost  absolutely 
unselfish  benevolence.  The  combination  is  by  no 
means  usual.  For  no  temptations  are  so  subtle  or  so 
strong  as  those  that  accompany  the  consciousness  of 
superior  power.  The  great  general  or  statesman  is 
always  liable  to  have  a  little  contempt  for  the  masses 
whose  wills  are  so  pliant  to  his  own.  The  masters  of 
men  are  seldom  the  lovers  of  men.     But  it  would  be 


290  JOHN  WESLEY 

difficult  to  find  a  man  in  history  whose  motives  were 
more  purely  altruistic  than  Wesley's.  Even  the  few 
malcontents  who  complained  of  his  rule  as  autocratic 
or  arrogant,  never  ventured  to  accuse  him  of  using  his 
authority  to  further  his  private  interests  or  gain.  At 
worst  they  only  charged  him  with  the  ambitious  love 
of  power  for  its  own  sake.  And  no  one  reads  his  life 
to-day  without  seeing  how  false  was  that  charge. 
Ambition,  in  any  bad  sense,  he  had  none.  It  was  not 
power  he  wanted,  but  influence  and  opportunity.  The 
world  was  his  parish,  and  he  wanted  to  get  at  men 
everywhere  on  the  common  level  of  human  needs  and 
human  destiny.  All  his  plans  and  machinery  had  this 
one  end  in  view. 

And  his  benevolence  was  remarkably  sane,  clear- 
sighted, practical.  There  was  no  effusiveness,  no 
sentimentality  about  it.  It  is  evident  enough  from  the 
!  Journal  that  the  gentleman  and  the  scholar  in  him  often 
shrank  instinctively  from  the  coarseness  and  ignorance 
of  those  to  whom  he  brought  his  message.  If,  as  one 
writer^  has  said,  his  greatest  service  was  not  to  the 
Church,  but  to  democracy,  he  was  himself  by  native 
inclination  conservative  and  aristocratic.  He  had  no 
illusions  about  the  people  in  the  lower  stratum  of  Eng- 
lish society;  he  knew  them  for  just  what  they  were 
—  ignorant,  often  coarse,  brutalized.  But  he  had  no 
contempt  for  them  and  no  despair.  He  did  not  philoso- 
phize much  over  the  problems  of  society,  either  with  the 
sociologist  or  the  theologian ;  he  only  knew  that  at  the 
root  of  most  of  the  real  ills  of  life  was  the  fact  of  sin; 
and  from  sin  he  knew  men  could  be  saved.  To  induce 
them  to  accept  that  salvation  was  the  deep,  steady, 
dominating  passion  of  his  life. 

1  F.  M.  Davenport. 


THE  MAN  291 

For  the  first  and  the  last  word  with  reference  to  John 
Wesley  must  be  that  he  was  a  man  of  religion.  The 
deepest  secret  of  his  success  was  his  faith  in  God. 
Without  love  of  man,  such  a  life  of  unselfish  devotion 
would  indeed  have  been  impossible;  but  without 
faith  in  God,  this  love  of  man,  even  in  the  bravest 
souls,  may  lead  in  such  a  world  as  this  to  despairing 
pessimism.  We  must  add  faith  to  our  love,  or  we  shall 
lose  our  hope.  Wesley  firmly  believed  that  God  would, 
and  that,  therefore,  man  could,  mend  and  lift  up  this 
bad  and  broken  world.  He  believed  that  every  human 
heart,  however  encased  in  worldly  conventions  or  sunk 
in  grosser  sins,  is  accessible  to  the  divine  grace;  that 
every  man  will  feel  some  impulse  of  response  to  the 
divine  message  of  warning  and  love,  if  only  he  can  be 
induced  to  listen  to  it.  And  so,  not  with  a  sudden  flare 
of  youthful  enthusiasm,  but  with  a  steadfast,  lifelong 
resolution,  he  gave  himself  to  the  work  of  winning  men 
to  righteousness,  from  the  love  of  sin  to  the  love  of  God. 
It  was  this  faith  in  God  and  the  resulting  confidence 
in  the  spiritual  possibilities  of  humanity  that  inspired 
his  unflagging  energy  and  lifted  his  life  to  the  calm 
levels  of  heroism. 

And  Wesley  had  little  confidence  in  any  other  means 
to  uplift  and  direct  mankind,  apart  from  this  force  of 
personal  religion.  It  is  true,  as  we  have  seen,  that  he 
was  in  advance  of  his  age  in  his  advocacy  of  measures 
to  improve  the  moral  and  physical  conditions  of  so- 
ciety; it  may  perhaps  be  true,  as  the  most  brilliant  of 
recent  English  historians^  has  said,  that  the  noblest 
result  of  the  Wesleyan  movement  was  "the  steady 
attempt,  which  has  never  ceased  from  that  day  to  this, 

1  J.  R.  Green,  "  Short  History  of  the  English  People." 


292  JOHN  WESLEY 

to  remedy  the  guilt,  the  ignorance,  the  physical  suffer- 
ing, the  social  degradation  of  the  profligate  and  the 
poor."  Yet  we  must  insist  that  the  Wesleyan  move- 
ment was  distinctively  a  religious  revival.  Wesley 
was  no  believer  in  salvation  by  education  and  culture, 
by  economic  and  social  reform.  He  accepted  the 
declaration  of  the  Master,  ''Ye  must  be  born  again." 
He  did  assert  most  positively  —  as  the  Master  did  — 
that  a  genuine  religious  life  must  be  known  by  its 
fruit  in  outward  conduct,  and  would  admit  no  man  to  be 
a  good  Christian  who  was  not  also  a  good  citizen.  But 
he  was  convinced  that  the  truly  righteous  life,  the  life 
that  realizes  the  best  possibilities  of  human  nature, 
must  spring  from  that  devout  love  to  God  which 
changes  and  directs  and  controls  all  a  man's  desires; 
and  he  knew  that  such  a  life  is  inspired  and  nurtured 
by  influences  supernatural  and  divine.  Philanthropist, 
social  reformer,  he  w^as  first  of  all,  and  always,  the 
preacher  of  personal  religion. 

He  was  not  a  perfect  man,  and  his  followers  then 
and  since  then  have  perhaps  often  idealized  him.  Yet 
among  religious  reformers  where  is  there  a  nobler 
figure,  a  purer  example  of  a  life  hospitable  to  truth, 
fostering  culture,  yet  subordinating  all  aspiration,  di- 
recting all  culture,  to  the  unselfish  service  of  humanity? 
It  were  idle  to  ask  whether  he  were  the  greatest  man  of 
his  century.  That  century  was  rich  in  names  the  world 
calls  great  —  great  generals  like  Marlborough,  great 
monarchs  like  Frederick,  great  statesmen  like  Chatham 
and  Burke,  poets  and  critics  like  Pope  and  Johnson  and 
Lessing,  writers  who  helped  revolutionize  society  like 
Voltaire  and  Rousseau ;  but  run  over  the  whole  brill- 
iant list,  and  where  among  them  all  is  the  man  whose 


THE  MAN  293 

motives  were  so  pure,  whose  life  was  so  unselfish,  whose 
character  was  so  spotless.  And  where  among  them 
all  is  the  man  whose  influence  —  social,  moral,  religious 
—  was  productive  of  such  vast  good  and  of  so  little  evil, 
as  that  exerted  by  this  plain  man  who  exemplified  him- 
self, and  taught  thousands  of  his  fellow-men  to  know, 
what  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ  really  means! 


INDEX 


Addison,  Joseph,  71,  79. 
Aldersgate  St.,  meeting  in,  58. 
America,   Methodism   in,   228,   236- 

246. 
American  ordinations,  243-246. 
American  Revolution,  228-235. 
Amusements,      Wesley's      attitude 

toward,  216,  220. 
Anacreon,  261. 
Ancaster,  Duchess  of,  197. 
Annapolis,  240. 
Anne,  Queen,  71. 
Annesley,  Samuel,  7. 
Anti-Methodist  literature,  146. 
Antinomianism,  204. 
Apostolical  Succession,  245. 
Armagh,  Bishop  of,  loi. 
Arminianism,  103-108,  202-209. 
Arminian  Magazine,  218. 
Arnold,  Matthew,  273. 
Asbury,  Francis,  237-244. 
Assurance,  doctrine  of,  55,  59-60. 
Atterbury,  Francis,  11. 

B 

Ball,  Hannah,  217. 

Baltimore,  243. 

"  Bands,"  65. 

Bath,  109,  250. 

Bawden,  141. 

Beattie,  James,  189,  285. 

Bell,  George,  193. 

Bennett,  John,  124,  175-177. 

Benson,  Joseph,  205,  214. 

Birstall,  109. 

Blair,  Robert,  283. 

Blenheim,  6. 

Bohler,  Peter,  54-56,  92. 


Bolingbroke,  Henry,     Viscount,     80, 

81,  197. 
Bolton,  217. 
Boswell,  James,  276. 
Bribery  at  elections,  214. 
Briscoe,  T.,  253. 
Bristol,  67-70,  82,  96,  107,  130,  183, 

187,  206. 
Brooke,  Henry,  286. 
Bunhill  Fields,  116. 
Bunker  Hill,  battle  of,  229. 
Burke,  Edmund,  225. 
Burtley,  iii. 
Burton,  John,  41. 
Butler,    Joseph,  Bishop,  79,  80,  81, 

85- 


"  Calm  Address  to  the  Inhabitants  of 
England,"  233. 

"  Calm  Address  to  Our  American 
Colonies,"  230. 

Calvinistic  controversy,  196-209. 

Candor,  Wesley's,  279. 

Canterbury,  188. 

Cards,  72. 

Caroline,  Queen,  71. 

Catholic  Emancipation,  254. 

Causton,  Thomas,  48. 

"  Cautions  and  Directions  to  the 
Greatest  Professors  in  the  Meth- 
odist Societies,"  195. 

Cennick,  John,  100,  106. 

Chapels,  Methodist,  82. 

Chapone,  Mrs.  Hester,  35. 

"Character  of  a  Methodist,"  no. 

Charles  Edward,  the  Pretender, 
144. 

Charleston,  S.C.,  50. 

Charterhouse  School,  15. 


295 


296 


INDEX 


"  Checks        to        Antinomianism," 
Fletcher's,  208. 

Chesterfield,  Earl  of,  73,  197,  217. 

Children,  Wesley's  treatment  of,  215. 

"Chloe"  of  Prior,  285. 

Choctaws,  45. 

Chowden,  in,  112. 

Christ  Church,  Oxford,  18,  26. 

Chudleigh,  Miss,  73. 

Church  of  England,   Wesley's   devo- 
tion to,  250. 

Church,  Thomas,  156. 

Cicero,  273. 

City  Road  Chapel,  188,  262,  264. 

"Class  Meetings,"  97. 

Clayton,  100. 

Clayton,  John,  28,  41,  56. 

Clough,  Arthur  Hugh,  quoted,  81. 

Coke,  Thomas,  243-245,  249. 

Colchester,  260. 

Colliers  of  Kingswood,  68. 

Conference,  first,  124. 

Conference  of  1770,  204. 

Conference,  powers  of,  defined  and 
made  permanent,  237. 

Controversy,  Wesley's  dislike  of,  147, 
209. 

Conversion,  Wesley's,  58. 

Cork,  254. 

Cornwall,  124,  133,  135,  253. 

Country,  morals  in,  75. 

Courtesy,  Wesley's,  269. 

Cowper,  Miss,  log. 

Crabbe,  George,  261. 

Credulity,,  Wesley's,  280. 


D 


Dartmouth,  Lord,  230. 

David,  Christian,  62. 

"  Deed  of  Declaration,"  237. 

Defoe,  Daniel,  78. 

Deists,  79. 

Delamotte,  Charles,  41,  44,  49. 

Delaney,  Mrs.,  see  Pendarves,  Mrs. 

Mary. 
Dispensaries,  Wesley's,  187. 
Doddridge,  Philip,  84. 
Dodington,  Bubb,  197. 
Donnington  Park,  109. 
"Douglas,"  Home's,  285. 
Dover,  Del.,  240. 


Downes,  John,  124. 
Dress,  Wesley's,  120,  268. 

E 

"Earnest  Appeal  to  Men  of  Reason 
and  Religion,"  156. 

Education,  Wesley's  interest  in,  217. 

"  Edward  and  Eleonora,"  Thomson's, 
285. 

Election,  doctrine  of,  103. 

Electricity,  187. 

"Elegy  on  an  Unfortunate  Lady," 
Pope's,  284. 

Elizabeth,  Queen,  278. 

Ellison,  Robert,  163. 

Enthusiasm,  fear  of,  79,  149,  152. 

"Enthusiasm  of  Methodists  and  Pa- 
pists Compared,"  Lavington's,  157. 

Episcopacy,  Wesley's  views   of,  245. 

Epworth,  I,  113-115. 

Epworth  "  noises,"  13. 

Epworth  rectory,  burning  of,  12. 

Exeter  College,  Oxford,  3. 


Faith  and  works,  204. 

Faith,  sermon  on,  by  Wesley,  60. 

Falmouth,  135,  253. 

Fetter  Lane  Society,  65,  69,  92. 

Fielding,  Henry,  283. 

Finsbury  Square,  95. 

Firmin,  Thomas,  212. 

Fletcher,  John,   167,  193,   204,  207- 

208,  256. 
Fontenoy,  140. 

"Fool  of  Quality,"  Brooke's,  286. 
Foundery,  95,  130. 
Frankland,  Lady,  197. 
Frederica,  Ga.,  47. 
Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales,  197. 
"  Free  Thoughts  on  Public  Affairs," 

225. 
Fuller,  Samuel,  2. 


Gambold,  John,  100. 
Gaming,  72. 
Ganson,  John,  131. 
George  II,  71. 
George  III,  222. 


INDEX 


297 


Georgia,  40-50. 
Ghost,  Epworth,  13. 
Ghost  stories,  281. 
Gibbon,  Edward,  18. 
Gibson,  Edmund,  Bishop,  79,  148. 
Gilder,  R.  W.,  quoted,  120. 
Gin  drinking,  74. 
Glanvill,  Joseph,  282. 
Glasgow,  250. 
Goldsmith,  Oliver,  283. 
Gospel  Magazine,  234. 
Granville  ministry,  229,  231. 
Gray,  Thomas,  283. 
Great  St.  Helen's,  London,  57,  254. 
Grimshaw,  William,  167,  236. 
Gwennap,  253,  256. 
Gwynne,  Sarah  (Mrs.  Charles  Wes- 
ley), 166. 

H 

Hall,  Westley,  164. 

Hampson,  John,  140. 

Handel,  George  F.,  72. 

Harley,  Robeit,  12. 

Haworth,  167. 

"Henry  and  Emma,"  Prior's,  285. 

Herrnhut,  62. 

Hervey,  James,  28,  284. 

Hill,  Richard,  208. 

Hill,  Rowland,  200,  202,  208. 

Hodges,  John,  124. 

Holiness,  Wesley's  views  on,  191. 

Holland,  255. 

Home,  John,  285. 

Homer,  273. 

Hopkey,  Sophia  Christina,  48-50. 

Howe,  John,  121. 

Humor,  Wesley's  lack  of,  270. 

Huntingdon,  Selina,  Countess  of,  109, 

197-200,  205-207. 
Hutton,  James,  59. 


Indians  of  Georgia,  40,  42,  45. 
Ingham,  Benjamin,  41,  100. 
Ireland,  Wesley's  visits  to,  117,  182, 
252,  255. 

J 

James,  William,  quoted,  58. 

"  Jeffery,"  the  Epworth  ghost,  13. 


Jews,  Spanish,  in  Georgia,  46. 
Johnson,    Samuel,     170,    224,    231, 

267,  278,  284. 
Journal,  Wesley's,  271,  275. 
Justification  by  faith,  55. 


Kempis,  Thomas  a,  20. 
Kennicott,  Benjamin,  121, 
Kennington,  83. 
King,  Peter,  Lord,  245. 
Kingswood,  68,  76,  100,  180. 
Kingswood  school,  83,  96,  180,  215. 
Kirkham,  Betty,  34,  173. 
Kirkham,  Robert,  27. 
Knox,  Alexander,  16,  173. 


Lavington,  George,  Bishop,  152. 
Law,  WilHam,  25,  32,  41,  53,  64,  277. 
Lay  preaching,  100,  127-130. 
Leatherhead,  262. 
Lecky,  W.  E.  H.,  quoted,  74,  277. 
"Letter  to  a  Roman  Catholic,"  211. 
Liberality,  Wesley's,  210. 
Liberty,  Wesley  on,  226. 
Lincoln  College,  Oxford,  21-33. 
Literature  in  the  eighteenth  century, 

283. 
London  in  1740,  74-75. 
Lowestoft,  261. 


M 

Macaulay,  T.  B.,  273. 

Madan,  Martin,  219. 

Madeley,  168. 

Mann,  Horace,  197. 

Manners  in  England,  1740,  71-75. 

Marienborn,  61. 

Marlborough,  John  Churchill,  Duke 

of,  6. 
Marlborough,  Sarah,  Duchess  of,  71, 

197. 
Marriage,  Wesley's,  178. 
Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  278. 
Marylebone,  188. 
Mather,  Alexander,  129. 
Maxfield,  Thomas,  loi,  124,  194. 


298 


INDEX 


"Meditations  among  the  Tombs," 
Hervey's,  284. 

Meriton,  John,  124. 

Methodist,  term  first  appUed,  27. 

Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  244. 

Middle  class  in  England,  1740,  77. 

Middlesex  election  agitation,  223. 

Miners,  iii. 

"Minstrel,"  Beattie's,  285. 

Mobs,  130-140. 

Molther,  Philip,  91-92. 

Montanus,  212. 

Mooriields,  76,  83. 

Morals  in  England,  1740,  71-75. 

Moravians,  43-5°.  53-55.  61-63,  9i- 

Morgan,  Robert,  27-29. 

Murray,  Grace,  174-177. 

Music  in  England,  1740,  72. 

Music  in  the  family  of  Charles  Wes- 
ley, 188. 

Music,  Wesley's  love  of,  219. 

Mystics,  53. 


N 


Natural  scenery,  Wesley's  love  for, 

255- 
Neatness,  Wesley's,  267. 
Nelson,  John,  109,  122,  129. 
Newcastle,  no,  124,  177,  217. 
Newbur^'port,  Mass.,  199. 
Nitschmann,  David,  43. 
"Noises,"  Epworth,  13. 
North,  Lord,  197,  229,  234. 
Norwich,  140. 
"Notes    on    the    New    Testament," 

185. 
Nottingham,  129. 
Nowell,  Dr.,  of  St.  Mary's  Hall,  202. 


Oglethorpe,  James,  40,  45,  48. 

O'Leary,  Father,  254. 

Olivers,  Thomas,  128. 

"On  the  Constitution  of  the  Primi- 
tive Church,"  Lord  King's,  245. 

Opposition  to  Wesley,  grounds  of, 
141,  158. 

Ordinations,  Wesley's  American,  243- 
246. 

Ormsby,  South,  3. 


Orphanage,  Newcastle,  112. 

Ossian,  285. 

Oxford,  Wesley's  love  of,  37. 


Pamphlets,  Anti-Methodist,  146. 

Papists,  Methodists  suspected  of  be- 
ing, 144,  152- 

Pelagius,  212. 

Pelton,  III. 

Pendarves,  Mrs.  Mary,  35. 

Penfield,  131. 

Perronet,  Vincent,  166,  177,  256. 

Petersham,  Caroline,  73. 

Physical  phenomena  attending  Wes- 
ley's preaching,  87. 

Piers,  Henry,  124. 

Pitt,  William,  Lord  Chatham,  197. 

Placey,  in. 

Plato,  212. 

Plymouth,  133. 

Podmore,  Frank,  14. 

Politics,  Wesley's,  221. 

Pope,  Alexander,  12,  81,  283. 

Preaching,  Wesley's  manner  of,  120- 
124. 

Predestination,  controversy  over,  202- 
208. 

Pretender,  the  (Charles  Edward), 
144,  147. 

Primitive  Church,  the,   245. 

"Primitive  Physic,"  186. 

Prior,  Matthew,  12,  284. 

Prison,  Oxford,  30. 


Queensberry,  Duchess  of,  197. 


R 


Raikes,  Robert,  217. 
Reading,  Wesley's,  273. 
Reasoning,  Wesley's  gift  of,  277. 
Religion  in  England,  i74o>  78-82. 
Richards,  Thomas,  124. 
Richardson,  John,  264. 
Richardson,  Samuel,  78,  283. 
Ridotto,  73. 
Riots,  130-140. 
Robinson,  Henry  Crabbe,  260. 


INDEX 


299 


Roman  Catholic,  letter  to,  211. 
Romley,   Rev.,   Curate  of  Epworth, 

113- 
Rousseau,  Jean  Jacques,  283. 
Rules  for  lay  preachers,  126. 
Ryan,  Sarah,  180. 


Sacheverell,  Henry,  5,  26. 

"Saducismus  Triumphatus,"  Glan- 
vill's,  282. 

St.  Edmund's  Hall,  Oxford,  201. 

St.  Helen's  Church,  London,  57. 

St.  Ives,  Cornwrall,  133,  215. 

St.  Mary's  Church,  Oxford,  60. 

St.  Mary's  Hall,  Oxford,  202. 

St.  Mary  Redcliffe,  Bristol,  67. 

Sanctiiication,  doctrine  of,  191. 

Savannah,  43-50,  67,  105. 

Schism  in  Methodism,  106. 

Scilly  Isles,  124. 

Scotland,  Methodism  in,  247. 

"Seasonable  Address  to  the  Inhabit- 
ants of  Great  Britain,"  232. 

Sellon,  Walter,  208. 

Selwyn,  George,  197. 

Sentiment,  Wesley's,  284. 

"  Sentimental  Journey,"  Sterne's,  286. 

Separation  from  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, 248-250. 

Sermons,  Wesley's,  121. 

Servetus,  212. 

Shirley,  Walter,  206. 

Shoreham,  166. 

Slavery,  262. 

Smith,  Adam,  18. 

SmuggUng,  213. 

Societies  in  the  EngHsh  Church,  65. 

Societies,  Methodist,  94,  99,  107,  124, 
190,  213. 

Societies,  in  America,  237-242. 

Society  in  England,  1740,  71-75. 

Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the 
Gospel,  40. 

Socrates,  212. 

Soldiers,  Methodist,  140. 

South,  Robert,  121. 

Southey,  Robert,  154. 

Southampton,  109. 

South  Sea  Scheme,  72. 

Spangenberg,  Augustus  Gottlieb,  43. 


Spence,  Robert,  259. 
StaffordsMre,  riots  in,  135-139. 
Steele,  Richard,  71. 
Sterne,  Laurence,  283,  286. 
Style,  Wesley's,  121,  274. 
Sunday  schools,  217. 
Superintendents     of     the     work     in 

America,  245. 
Swift,  Jonathan,  73,  81,  275. 
Syllogism,  Wesley's  respect  for,  278. 


Taste,  Wesley's,  284. 

Taylor,  Jeremy,  20,  53. 

Taylor,  John,  no. 

Taylor,  Samuel,  124. 

"Taxation  no  Tyranny,"  Johnson's, 

231. 
Texts,  Wesley's  favorite,  122. 
Thomson,  James,  285. 
"Thoughts    on    the    Causes    of    the 

Present  Discontents,"  Burke's,  225. 
"Thoughts  upon  Liberty,"  226. 
Toleration  Act,  248. 
Toplady,    Augustus    Montagu,    199, 

202-204,  208,  234. 
Townshend,  Charles,  Lord,  197. 
Travels  of  Wesley,  117. 
Trevecca  College,  198,  202,  205. 
"Tristram  Shandy,"  Sterne's,  286. 
Tucker,  Josiah,  147. 
Tyburn,  75. 
Tyerman,  Luke,  quoted,  16. 


Vane,  Harry,  73. 

Vasey,  Thomas,  243. 

Vauxhall,  73. 

Vazeille,  Mrs.  (Mrs.  John  Wesley), 

178-181. 
Voltaire,  F.  A.  de,  286. 

W 

Walker,  Thomas,  16. 
Walpole,  Horace,  73,  197,  276. 
Walpole,  Robert,  71. 
Walsal,  138. 
Walsh,  Thomas,  129. 
Wapping,  100. 


300 


INDEX 


Warburton,  William,  Bishop,  154. 

Watts,  Isaac,  84. 

Wednesbury,  136,  238. 

Wesley,  Anne  (sister  of  John),  164. 

Wesley,  Bartholomew  (1596-1689),  2. 

Wesley,  Charles  (brother  of  John), 
at  Westminster  School,  15;  en- 
tered Christ  Church,  26;  religious 
work  in  Oxford,  28-30;  goes  to 
Georgia,  41 ;  returns  to  England, 
47;  strives  to  dissuade  John  from 
going  to  Bristol,  69 ;  in  charge  of  the 
work  in  London,  90,  99 ;  accused  of 
favoring  the  Pretender,  145 ;  mar- 
ries, 162;  dissuades  Grace  Murray 
from  marriage  with  John,  176; 
displeased  at  John's  marriage,  178; 
his  London  residence  a  musical 
centre,  188;  differs  with  John  as 
to  "  sanctification,"  189;  pro- 
tests against  the  ordination  of 
Coke,   244;    last  days  and  death, 

257- 

Wesley,  Charles  (son  of  above),  188, 
220. 

Wesley,  Emilia  (sister  of  John),  163. 

Wesley,  Hetty  (sister  of  John),  11, 
14,  27,  164. 

Wesley,  John  (1636-1668),  2. 

Wesley,  John,  early  home  training, 
12;  enters  Charterhouse,  15;  re- 
ligious experience  there,  17;  in 
Christ  Church,  19;  fellow  of 
Lincoln,  21;  curate  of  Wroote, 
25;  returns  to  Oxford,  27;  the 
Methodists,  28;  work  in  Oxford, 
28-34;  acquaintance  with  Betty 
Kirkham  and  Mrs.  Pendarves,  34; 
declines  the  Epworth  living,  38; 
goes  to  Georgia,  40;  meets  the 
Moravians,  43 ;  labors  in  Georgia, 
45-48;  acquaintance  with  Sophia 
Hopkey,  49 ;  returns  to  England 
in  discouragement,  50—54;  meets 
Bohler,  54;  the  experience  of  the 
24th  of  May,  1738,  57;  visits  the 
Moravians,  61 ;  preaches  in  the 
open  air,  70;  work  in  Bristol,  82; 
violations  of  ecclesiastical  disci- 
pline, 85 ;  physical  effects  attend- 
ing his  preaching,  87;  separates 
from    the    Moravians,    91;     pur- 


chases the  Foundery,  95 ;  organ- 
izes the  "classes,"  97;  authorizes 
lay  preaching,  loi ;  temporarily 
alienated  from  Whitefield,  102; 
trouble  with  the  Bristol  society, 
106;  visits  Newcastle,  1 10 ;  founds 
orphanage  there,  113;  his  itin- 
erant life,  117;  habits  and  ap- 
pearance, 119;  style  of  preaching, 
121;  calls  his  first  conference,  124; 
encounters  with  mobs,  130-140; 
opposition  from  churchmen,  Gib- 
son, Lavington,  Warburton,  146— 
156;  writes  his  "  Earnest  Appeal," 
156;  had  no  home  life  or  intimate 
friends,  162;  yet  loved  society, 
169;  but  had  no  time  for  it,  170; 
acquaintance  with  Grace  Murray, 
174-177;  unfortunate  marriage 
with  Mrs.  Vazeille,  177-181;  in- 
creasing labors  and  illness,  182- 
185;  resumes  his  labors,  186-190; 
his  opinion  on  the  doctrine  of 
sanctification,  189-194;  the  Cal- 
vinistic  controversy,  196-209;  his 
liberaUty  of  opinion,  209-212; 
forbids  smugghng  and  bribery, 
213-215;  his  attitude  toward 
amusements  and  accomplishments, 
215;  toward  education  and  lit- 
erature, 217;  toward  music,  219; 
his  political  opinions  and  writings, 
221-227;  his  attitude  toward 
American  affairs,  22S-235;  takes 
measures  to  make  his  organiza- 
tion in  England  permanent,  236; 
"sets  apart"  Coke  for  the  work  in 
America,  253;  and  ministers  for 
Scotland,  247;  yet  deplores  sep- 
aratist tendencies,  248;  love  and 
honor  for  his  old  age,  253 ;  in- 
creasing love  for  books,  music, 
nature,  255 ;  left  lonely  by  death 
of  friends,  256;  health  weakens, 
259;  last  circuit  of  England  and 
Wales,  260;  final  illness  and 
death,  262 ;  characteristics  —  a 
gentleman,  267;  personal  ap- 
pearance, manners,  268;  lack  of 
humor,  270;  a  scholar,  273;  his 
writings,  the  Journal,  274;  child 
of  his  age  in  respect  for  reasoning. 


INDEX 


301 


276;  his  credulity,  280;  senti- 
ment, 283 ;  mastery  of  men,  287 ; 
unselfish  benevolence,  289 ;  reli- 
gious faith,  298;  place  in  history, 
292. 

Wesley,  Keziah  (sister  of  John),  163. 

Wesley,  Martha  (sister  of  John),  164. 

Wesley,  Mary  (sister  of  John),  115. 

Wesley,  Samuel  (father  of  John),  3- 
7,  21,  29,  38,  39. 

Wesley,  Samuel,  Jr.  (brother  of  John), 
II,  15.  38,  41,  56,  64,  85,  89,  285. 

Wesley,  Samuel  (son  of  Charles  Wes- 
ley), 188,  220. 

Wesley,  Samuel  Sebastian  (grandson 
of  Charles  Wesley),  220. 

Wesley,  Sarah  (daughter  of  Charles 
Wesley),  188. 

Wesley,  Susanna  (mother  of  John), 
7-11,  41,  108,  116. 

Wesley,  Susanna  (sister  of  John),  163. 

Westminster  Assembly,  2. 

Westminster  School,  11. 

Whatcoat,  Richard,  243. 

White,  John,  2. 

Whitefield,  George,  at  Oxford,  28; 
goes  to  Georgia,  66;  preaches  to 
the    Kingswood    colUers,    68;     in 


London,  83;  revisits  America,  90; 
differences  with  Wesley,  102;  re- 
newed friendship,  165;  preaches 
to  fashionable  London,  165 ;  last 
visit  to  America  and  death,  199. 

Whitelamb,  John,  113,  115. 

"  Whole  Duty  of  Man,"  31. 

Wilberforce,  William,  262. 

Wilkes,  John,  223-227. 

Williamson,  Wilham,  49. 

Windsor,  108. 

Witchcraft,  281. 

Wolverhampton,  129. 

Wordsworth,  William,  171. 

Works,  relation  to  faith,  204. 

Wroote,  25,  113,  115. 


Xenophon,  no. 


Yarmouth,  128. 


Zanchius,  202. 

Zinzendorf,  Nikolas  L.,  Count  von, 
55.  61,  63. 


TT' 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY 

0035521767 


958.69 


W51975 


BRiniE  DO  Not 
PHOTOCOPY 


